


Nowhere man

by none_the_wiser



Category: I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Blindness, Cops, Gangsters, Las Vegas, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, OOC btw, Shootings, Strong Language, a bit of smut but not really i can't write smut, i forgot angst, ronnie's an asshole not sorry, some people are assholes, some people will die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14946095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/none_the_wiser/pseuds/none_the_wiser
Summary: "Next moment he’s gone, and the loud music is deafening me when he opens the balcony door to walk into the room, and I wonder how he even remembers where the door is, when I can't remember my own name. Brendon, the name is Brendon. And then the meaning of his last words hits me. Oh well."I wrote this story when I was sad, so it's not a fluffy or romantic story, and there will be some real angst, so please check the warning in the beginning of each chapter. It's inspired by a bunch of books I've read, some people I've met and music. I hope you enjoy it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my favorite people on the internet: my amazing beta masterassassin and my lovely muse sugarpie10 You are the best <3 
> 
> I put some lyrics in the beginning of each chapter, the name of the song and the artist will be mentioned in the end of the chapter. 
> 
> So, here we go.

 

_The gnashing teeth and criminal tongues_

_Conspire against the odds,_

_But they haven't seen the best of us yet._

 

“Ok kid, so you’re officially in our gang now!” Ronnie smiles and raises a glass. There’s something in his face, he looks like a reptile when he’s smiling.

If you’ve never met Ronnie, it’s most likely that you’ve succeeded in your life, and you’re living in one of those nice neighborhoods with cute houses and well-groomed yards, you’re not in debt, you don’t have troubles with the law, drugs, weapons, you’re not into gambling, and you don’t visit brothels too often. And you’re definitely not an undercover cop in one of the most dangerous gangs in Vegas.

I wish I could say it’s my dream job but that’s not true. I’m only here because I fucked up big time and this is my only chance to clear my name in the eyes of the bosses and to be retained. Nice, huh?

Do you want to know how I got screwed?

Easy. Here he is, sitting right next to Ronnie with that pleased smile on his pretty-pretty face. Only a short time ago, I started to ask myself why does he always have to be let off the hook? Maybe it was all about how he carried himself – high and low, so close yet so far… My idol, wet teenage dream, magnificent George Ryan Ross III. Once a high-profile detective, the boss’s pet, a good boy, know-it-all, now he’s a distinguished drug dealer, a man sliding under the surface of the seamy side of life that you probably don’t know shit about.

When we were young, he used to write strange poetry of the kind that gives you that sinking feeling, and changes something inside you, for the best or the worst, for good. My whole world was in his amber eyes once. You know, everyone has that friend who’s better than them in everything. Just better with no visible efforts. Prettier, smarter, has more luck. No matter how much you would try, you could never get to their level of perfection. He was that friend for me. We grew up together, well, he did, I didn’t grow very tall, damned to always drag behind. He got all A++’s and teacher’s praises, all the rewards in all competitions. I was the dumbass in the back of class, the funny one, but still the dumbass who had nothing better to do than to comfort all the girls whose hearts he was breaking with his natural recklessness.

I try my best not to choke on whiskey when I meet his gaze. Of course he’s fully convinced that I’m only here to save him. I feel that weird malicious joy thinking of how wrong he is. Yeah he’s the reason I was so deeply fucked up. But no way he’s the reason why I’m here. Suck it, Ross.

In my first month of my “trial period” here I nearly broke down. What was I doing? Generally, I was driving around the city in a fancy car with bullyboy Zack or sometimes with Spencer. They’re not bad guys really, they obviously just made some wrong decisions that led them to this hell of a life, that’s basically all. I’m trying to hold on to the only commandment that matters  - “do not kill” - doing my job here, and I’m succeeding, considering I’m only a driver by now, but unfortunately only this week I had to bury at least two bodies somewhere in the desert of Nevada but hey I only threw once. And I have to say it’s a good result. It’s all Zack’s fault. This guy needs some anger management course. With Spencer it’s always more fun. Anyways, ladies and gents, I’m in hell. Moreover after all this shit will come to its end there’s another hell awaiting me. Because I highly doubt I can ever recover and have a nice life after this. Nobody ever could, to the best of my knowledge. And I’m not special.

The party has just begun but it already gives me a migraine. Still, I put a smile on my face every time somebody claps my shoulder and shakes my hand, all these hustlers and killers, dealers and pushers, greeting me since I’ve officially become one of them.

Finally, Ross gets his turn to congratulate me. I shake his hand and it surprises me how I’ve lost my ability to enjoy its warmth. He crooks a smile and then hugs me. “I missed you, baby boy,” he whispers in my ear and his breath mixed with alcohol tickles my skin.

A strange mix of feelings -  shame and disgust - are floating in when I see how much he’s full of himself and with a confidence that I should feel on cloud nine just having him around. But what I can do really well, even better than him, is to act. And it’s funny because I signed up for drama classes in high school only for him. So I’m forcing myself to look up in his eyes, recollecting all those memories of the time when I was craving to find a sign of admiration in his gaze.

“Ryan can we talk somewhere? Privately … ” I ask quietly.

“Oh no no, don’t get this started, Brendon. I don’t need you to save my soul, I’m okay, moreover I’m good. And look at you sitting pretty!”

He’s patronizing me as usual but I don’t even care anymore. Still, I try to look offended and I think it’s working.

“Honey, everything’s gonna be fine, you’ll see,” he rubs my cheek with his thumb and smiles dizzily. “I don’t regret that I’m working for Ronnie now. At least he doesn’t care how we spend our spare time. See ya!”

Ryan pats me on my cheek and winks and I feel nauseous.

The scariest thing – he was always like this, I never seemed to notice. He turns around and walks away. I spent years trying to copy his elegant movements and determined walk, all in vain. That’s how the dreams die.

I see Spencer heading to me intending to greet me or cheer me up depends if he has witnessed my conversation with Ryan. He’s like this. He always looks so relaxed with this smile of his and lazy movements but more than once I saw that sharp look in his blue eyes, and it was always pointed to the things nobody else notices. The fool looks at a finger that points at the sky. We’re all fools here as it seems, all but Spencer.

“How are you buddy?”  He pats my shoulder. I just don’t get how I still haven’t fallen into pieces as it seems everybody feels like they have to clap on my shoulder with full force today.  Why do people always feel the need to touch each other at all? However I’m smiling, I actually like him a lot.

“I don’t know, kinda feel tired of all these…Greetings? I feel like a birthday boy.”

“Well why yes you are at some point,” Spencer’s smile is wide and there are sparkles in his eyes.   

He doesn’t even suspect how far it’s from the truth. I’m an transient visitor at this party set up in my honor, and I’m surprised how they haven’t seen through me yet. Only a thought of how fast this nice fellow Spencer can finish me is enough to creep me out.

“I think I need fresh air.” I almost run away from him through the room full of chilling killers and thieves to the balcony and close the door behind me violently.

The view is just breathtaking. Vegas in all his shining glory and bright lights of never ending celebration is lying to my feet. I breathe in the night air and as I’m breathing it out I feel like the nervous tension of the last months is finally leaving my body.

Oh dear god and this is just the beginning.

Set in the heart of Vegas, 505 hotel rises above the city like a beautiful castle, and standing at this balcony I feel on top of the world. The metaphor is so wrong because this is literally the bottom of life. But in this world where everything is upside down, and every single person in this country knows who the owner of this place is and what’s happening on the upper floors, it’s attracting tourists even more. And this fact, my friends, undermines my faith in humanity.

They can’t see the cruel violence taking place right in front of their eyes, as long as the city lights are shining brightly, and the cars are passing by, and the music is loud, they’d be drinking champagne and playing roulette as if tomorrow never comes. I wouldn’t trade this place for any other. This is my home and I’m going to love it until I take my last breath. Which is probably going to happen very soon.

I light up a cigarette to calm down my imagination that went wild. I can’t let my thoughts carry me too far, they already call me a dreamer. Brendon Boyd Urie, a cop who’s been dismissed from the Police Force in dramatic fashion for the reason of stealing drugs from an evidence room,  this guy is not a dreamer, and not a deliberator, and this guy is me. _Absolutely fucking true._

I flinch in surprise as I detect some noise behind me. I turn around slowly, staring into the darkness. A tall lanky guy with messy hair is standing there leaning against the wall in a corner to the right of the door frame. The moment I recognize him I feel adrenalin boiling in my veins. That’s why I’m here. This guy is my only interest in this damn place, my only purpose and my only chance to glue back together all the pieces of my shattered life.

In all the time spent here, I was able to run into him only twice, but never got a chance to start a conversation. Oh if only I could manage to get him talking and it’d be in the bag. My boss swore to kiss my ass in a front of our whole department and damned if I won’t make him keep the promise.

I turn back and keep smoking.

“Congrats” says Blind quietly, his voice is so different from what I expected and his tone is full of irony.

I feel tingling in the tips of my fingers. Oh come on, Brendon, here it is, don’t fuck it up.

His voice is so soft and unexpectedly boyish for somebody no one dares to talk with. It seemed ridiculous for me at first. Damn, he’s just a boy, Ronnie’s favorite pet. But nobody knows who he is and where he came from. Ronnie guards this guy with his life, and even the police has heard the rumors of him, which only confirms that the guy is a big deal.

Here’s all I know at the moment:

  1. Blind isn’t a stupid nickname, the guy is blind for real
  2. Which doesn’t seem to be a problem for him. I saw it with my own two eyes how easily he can get around the hotel with an efficiency that not every sighted could handle. I mean I can’t stop running into those stupid staff carts in the corridors, and last time I checked my vision it was dope. I’m still not sure if he’s not simulating his blindness somehow but Linda is convinced it’s impossible, so yeah, see clause 1
  3. Ronnie is really really protective of him. Once I saw Blind leaving the hotel. Oh there was an escort that even the president would have envied
  4. That’s all. Seriously. I don’t know shit about him. No one here is willing to talk about Blind as if it’s bad luck.



To be honest last week I was in such despair I almost called Linda again. I would have broken the rule to not get in touch until it’s a life or death situation. I don’t know what preserved me from doing that really. Maybe the acknowledgement that I’ve got nothing to lose. If I think about it I’m not that different from the other guys here.

And hey maybe I finally got my chance. He walks out of the shadow. He looks over my shoulder like he’s staring at someone standing behind my back and it’s creeping me out. He takes his steps carefully as if he was in a familiar room in the dark. Then I remember that the world for him is a dark room.

However I can finally get a view of his face. His eyes are the mix of blue and grey and I could call them beautiful if only they didn’t look _this_ dead. Same with his blank face - with its clean-cut features and perfectly smooth skin - it shows no emotions and looks like a porcelain mask. Now I’m starting to realize why everyone avoids him like a plague.  

“You’re Brendon? The new kid?” His voice is still quiet and sounds a bit unsure now.

What the fuck is with his manner of speaking, now I’m having an episode of inner struggle between an urge to come closer to him so I can hear him better and a creepy feeling that even a thought of being close to him makes me feel.

“Umm, yeah, I am Brendon”. My voice sounds harsh and I wonder why. “And you are?”

“I’m Blind”.

I shake his hand extended in my direction with remarkable precision, and it’s huge and warm. I’m surprised as if I truly was expecting his hand to be made of stone.

“Yeah I see it, and the name is?” Wow, just wow. The words pop out before I’ve got time to think of them and I guess I look really impressive in this role of a plain fellow. Brendon, get your shit together.

“There’s no name.” And just right when I thought he couldn’t be more intimidating, he jumps to the new level. “I’ve heard you’ve been asking about me”.

Then I notice I’m still holding his hand and I drop it a little bit more rashly than I should. He frowns as if I had hit him. And that’s how I ruin things. Story of my life.

“Ah yeah, I mean maybe… I’ve been around for a while but never met you, but heard a lot.”

“Lies.” Follows his short answer and my heart’s in my throat in an instant. Damn this guy, is it necessary to be this scary?

I’m studying his face in silence, trying to get an idea of his motives, his mood or at least of his age. But it’s blank and inexpressive, and it gives me nothing.

“What made you think that?” I ask as cocky as it’s possible and this is a mistake. He leans closer to me and I see a smile that suddenly brightens his face, and I realize how beautiful this face can be, and that he can’t be older than twenty three maybe, or even younger. God, he’s just a boy.

“I recognize your smell.” And here we go again, the new wave of soul-chilling terror hits me. Damn this is exhausting. “I think I’ve run into you once or twice. 20th floor, right?”

Right. That’s my floor. But he didn’t run into me, he passed me by like I was furniture and I was certain he didn’t even see me. Well he couldn't exactly see me, but as it turns out he has noticed me and even memorized. Well shit. I’ve got nothing to say.

“Stop staring at me, I’m not that special.” His voice sounds a bit offended now. Oh, wow, now he’s showing emotions? But it seems like he’s still willing to talk as he continues: “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

I just shrug. The question bewilders me for an obvious reason.

“Well, I’ve been told it’s beautiful here,” he keeps going like it’s not a big deal. “You’re not very talkative today, aren’t you?”

I shrug again. And then it clicks - he can’t see it, right?

“You just shrugged didn’t you?” And what? He giggled or am I imagining things? “You’re wearing a leather jacket and it rustles a bit when you move.”

A pleased smile shows up on his thin lips and it looks like he’s waiting for me to give him a reward for his lucky guess. Who does he think he is?

“Give me one of those?” He asks, obviously tired of waiting for my response.

I nod and then curse my utter stupidity. Fantastic, Brendon, keep it up.

Blind reaches out his hand and though I see how he awkwardly moves it in the air I’m not going to make it easier for him out of spite. He shouldn’t have played man of mystery here and frightened me with stupid “smells and clothes” stories and what the actual fuck. Finally he finds my hand holding a pack and deftly takes out one cigarette.

“Hmm…. A lighter?” He’s leaning to me again and when I light up a cigarette his face brightens with a flash of fire. I want to punch myself in the face immediately to remind myself that I’m not here to stare at the endless eyelashes and fantastic cheekbones of the man who's entangled with one of the most dangerous criminals of the country and most likely is going to jail when my job is done.

Blind returns to his place by the wall, and just smokes there in silence.

I turn around to enjoy the view again and to catch my breath to be honest. I’m trying to get my thoughts together when I hear his quiet voice again.

“Come here, talk to me. It’s so nice to hear a new voice. You can’t imagine how tired I am of the others.”

I hear a shyness in his voice, timidity even, and I’m confused. Why does he have to send such mixed signals? Is it a game? Now he doesn’t want to scare the shit out of me, he wants me to pity him? But he doesn’t look like a man who needs someone’s pity.

I’m leaning against the wall beside him.

Blind smokes with his eyes closed and I’m closing my eyes as well. I want to imagine, how does it feel like to live in a darkness. As a children we all played in blind man’s buff, and I always cheated, tried to look under my feet through a narrow slit, where the fabric of my mother’s scarf laid loosely to my eyes. Now I’m too tired and do not want to cheat.

“Well talk!” He says and there’s a childish impatience in his voice.

“What d’ya want to talk about?” Frankly I’d prefer to listen to him talking. I like his voice.

“I don’t know. Tell me what do you see around you”.

“Nothing. My eyes are closed” I reply as an honest man I am.

“Good. Then don’t open them.”

I catch some movement at his side, maybe he’s throwing his cigarette, then I feel his shoulder pressed to mine. I try my best not to overthink that weird excitement I’m getting from his closeness, it’s probably just adrenalin. This, and also that I’ve been waiting for so long to finally talk to him, and the chances I’m going to ruin it are very high. He’s a head taller than me, and I do not only remember that, I can _sense_ it now, as I can sense the warmth of his body so close to mine, and the fresh smell of his clothes. It seems I begin to understand the world he’s living in.

“Do you like it here?” he asks.

I can’t help it but shrug again not even worried he can’t see it, because he's so close he can feel my every move. At this point I’m envious of him.

“Ok that was a stupid question to ask. Do not open your eyes”.

As I nod in agreement I lose the weight of his shoulder on mine, and then he’s standing right in front of me, only  a couple of inches away, and I feel his breathe on my face, it’s so strange, but I’m afraid to move even slightly. Then the sudden warmth of his fingers upon my cheek makes me shiver in surprise.

“Relax. I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to.” His voice sounds distracted now as he’s busy exploring every inch of my face with his soft fingertips. “Breathe.” And I realize I was holding my breath for a while. What did he expect from me though? I’ve never been in such a situation in my life.  

“What are you’re doing?” I almost cry it out when his fingers begin to slide over my neck, causing my knees to buckle.

“Ronnie said you’re feeling ill at ease and asked me to help you to figure it out.”

His voice is so soft but when I open my eyes I see his straight face and his blind eyes staring at me, right through me, nowhere.

“What…?’

“And here we go again, you’re staring at me,” he sighs in disappointment.

He leans even closer; our foreheads and noses are pressed together now, and his hands are in my hair. I close my eyes, what the hell, I can’t breathe again.

“We’re only here to do what Ronnie tells us, aren’t we?” he mutters and he’s so close now I can feel a grin forming on his lips against my own.

And I kiss him first. Because fuck it, because I’m tired, and I was on my own for too long, because he’s frightening and fascinating me at the same time. But mostly because I’m totally brainless.

The world doesn’t just disappear when you close your eyes.

He kisses me back in an instant.

A minute or an hour later, I can’t tell, he’s pulling up my shirt and his fingertips are dancing upon my stomach. I’ve got no energy to resist - and that’s how you lose a fight, -  when he unzips my jeans and his hungry fingers are touching the sensitive skin I lean desperately into the touch. Then he breaks the kiss and I’m already missing his lips, but he’s down on his knees and my pants are kneel-down. My hand is in his hair in a moment and I’m pulling it roughly though I didn’t mean to, I’ve lost control over my body, there’s someone else running it at this moment. Someone who’s eager to feel this closeness, someone who shamelessly wants it all, but it's not me, _I swear_. He’s doing these awful things and I would have already fallen apart if not for the wall behind me. Its sharp surface reminds me I’m not dreaming, I can hear music playing somewhere behind it, somewhere far away, in another world, and I have to bite my fist not to scream, and the blood is pounding in my ears. Then I see white.

Instantly Blind is on his feet again and I’m pressing my lips to his neck, tasting his salty skin. Carefully he pulls back.

“Oh dear god, Brendon, I can smell a good cop like you for a mile. Get your shit together.”

Next moment he’s gone, and the loud music is deafening me when he opens the balcony door to walk into the room, and I wonder how he even remembers where the door is, when I can't remember my own name. Brendon, the name is Brendon. And then the meaning of his last words hits me. Oh well.

 

 

 

 

 

Panic! at the disco - Far too young to die 


	2. Chapter 2

 

_Just splash a little water on it_

_See what you’re working with_

_Splash a little water on it_

_And see if it comes alive_

_Last night almost all went up in smoke_

_You cannot choke without them knowing_

_You keep on going_

That night I couldn’t sleep, haunted by the last evening events, and the next day I spent in a fog.

No matter how sensitive his nose was, Blind just couldn’t know who I was, he couldn’t see through me just like that, fuck he couldn’t see at all, which means someone had to give him a hint. But who?

If Ronnie knew I was still working with the police, I’d already be dead. But let’s have it straight, Ronnie isn’t very smart. His empire was built on his absolute confidence in his impunity. From our first meeting I perceived he was an improvident and hot-tempered man, and I was wondering how he could get so far?     

Though in the eyes of the law he was a respectable businessman and a peaceful hotel owner, everyone in the city knew what his actual _business_ was. But he was just untraceable. Every opened investigation would be closed in the shake of a hand, every witness would disappear without leaving a trace, as if they never existed in the first place. Now I know for sure where they have gone. Besides, it was perfectly obvious he had some powerful supporter who could put pressure on prosecutors and incorruptible judges, but it was impossible to figure out who it was. In all probability it was someone from a ruling establishment. Still, it stays a mystery to me why someone this powerful would put his or her head on the block to protect such a piece of shit that Ronnie was.

However, there had to be someone else who would direct him in pursuing his business. Otherwise, he wouldn’t keep his place of a crime boss a week, he was too aggressive and couldn’t see beyond his nose or pay attention to details. Could it be Blind?

At the thought of him I’m getting a sick feeling in my stomach. It took a lot of effort to hunt away the memories of his talented mouth on me, and the sense of his soft hair in my hand, and the thought of how easily he made me forget of my official duties and job descriptions. Linda would be so not amused. Either way they should not have relied on me.

Just organize. Come on Brendon.

Blind is clever, manipulative and, needless to say, unburdened by the confines of morality and conscience. But something still doesn’t match. First of all he’s too young. Not that important, but still the average age in the gang was somewhat mid-thirties. Ronnie doesn’t like to mess with kids, which is surprisingly wise of him. So where did Blind come from? Nobody knows when exactly he took his place with Ronnie. What was that place though? Don’t get me wrong, personnel turnover is high here, for an obvious reason. To be honest I don’t even know if someone had left the gang to hang up fiddle. Ronnie doesn’t let people go just like that – first. Nobody has a chance to make old bones living this kind of life – second. So basically I’ve got nobody to ask about him. The only old-timer here is Zack, but he’s not particularly talkative. Spencer was around for two years maybe, but according to him, Blind was already here, when he made his own appearance.

Among other things, there was something childish in his behavior. Not even related to his age. Something that didn’t match with his incredible shamelessness he showed me yesterday. “We’re only here to do what Ronnie tells us, aren’t we?” he said. Was he one of the Ronnie’s hookers? I highly doubt, considering how meticulous Ronnie was about him. Could he be Ronnie’s lover? No way Ronnie would  like to share with me. Besides he was so disgustingly into his main bitches, side bitches, and I heard there was a wife somewhere. Also I just don’t like the thought.  

This train of thoughts carries me right to the balcony where I was standing, pressing myself into the wall, biting my lips, coming apart under his touch. And here we go again, I’m not being organized. I’m just thinking about this guy and not in the way I should have.

In order to unwind and maybe exercise a little, I’m going to the swimming pool. There are two pools in the hotel, but the tourists prefer the fancy one. The casual 50 meter pool with 6 lanes is mostly unoccupied at day and closed for visitors at night. Always available for Ronnie’s guys though. For purposes of keeping us in a good shape. Still I haven’t use the opportunity. But the day spent in bed in deep thinking that my head wasn’t used to made me feel dizzy. It would be nice to engage my body with something sports-like to burn accumulated energy instead of racking my brain.

Walking out of the locker room, I hear water splashes and Spencer’s loud laughter. Maybe small talk with him will bring me into my senses.

I freeze in the doorway when I see that on a starting block of the well-illuminated pool stands none other than the reason of my concerns and the occupier of my thoughts – Blind.

“Hey Brendon!” Spencer cheers me, lifting up his beer, smiling widely as usual.

“Hey Brendon!” Blind echoes not even turning his face in my direction. Why would he though, considering it was totally useless for him. His voice, amplified through the reverberant room, astounds me and anxiety strikes again. I grab a beer from a box on a counter and sit next to Spencer, who’s hanging out by the side of the pool, sinking my feet into cool water.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks. “You look like shit.”

“Hangover.” I’m trying to sound casual though the nervousness escalates to the point where my fingers start to shake. I notice a stopwatch in his hand. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Training Blind for Paralympics, what d'ya think.” Spencer chuckles. And when my eyebrows are halfway to the center of my forehead he adds: “Such a pity Ronnie doesn’t support our undertakings. The guy could have had such a bright future in sports!”

He turns to Blind and shouts in a top-level coach manner: “Ready? Go!”

Immediately Blind hits the luminous blue surface of the water in one incredibly graceful movement with barely a splash. His body is strong and lean, it’s pale and underwater it seems almost silver, and reminds me of white sharks, also known as man-eating sharks in case you didn’t know. He pops up halfway down the pool and swims along his lane in a superior crawl style like a pro-athlete moving at the speed of lightning, then he turns at the wall and swims back. I whistle in appreciation. “I know, right?” Spencer giggles. “It’s just... Unbelievable.” We’re watching in silence as Blind does laps in the pool. When he finishes the fourth length of the pool and his hands slam the wall, he asks impatiently: “Time?”

Spencer calls time and I whistle again. Blind lays on his back in the water, and a pleased smile appears on his face. I can’t take my eyes off him and Spencer has to clap on my hand to get my attention.

“Someone’s got a crush?”

I shake my head way too fast. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“Relax.” Spencer laughs.” He can’t hear you with his ears in the water. Also I’m not judging.”

I sniff disdain.

“And Ross’s already outed you to everyone so... “

I can’t help but laugh bitterly. Fucking Ross.

“However as your friend...” And while I’m wondering when exactly we’ve become friends, Spencer continues “I have to warn you. The last dude who had an affair with Blind.. Well. I had to bury him uh.. In separate pieces.”

 And this is the finest example of high-quality information I’m here for, really.

 “Wow thank you bro, just what I needed to hear.”

 “No, listen...” And he looks me in the eyes dead serious. Unfortunately I never listen, when someone tells me to. “Ryan was a good guy.”

 “Ryan? Ryan Ross?” I ask automatically.

 “Another Ryan, dumbass. The dead one”.

 Spencer studies my face so carefully, his blue eyes are burning holes in my head. I want to turn away but there’s no one else around to stare at, only Blind. Floating in the pool and illuminated with blue flares his body looks lifeless. I drain my beer in one long swallow.

 “Relax, dude. I don’t want to threaten you, oh damn… Just be careful, ok? I really like you and it would be a bummer to bury you too.”

 Everyone here considers it a duty to tell me to relax, but it doesn’t go well in one sentence with the mention of my possible death. I sigh.

 “What did that Ryan do? The dead one.” I ask while we're at it.

 “Uh… I think they wanted to run away with boss’s money… Can you imagine how happy Ronnie was?”

 Knowing Ronnie I can assume he dismembered that guy with his own hands.

 “But as I can see Blind is alive and healthy,” I say in a matter-of-factly tone just to say something.

 “Mostly, yeah.” Spencer rubs the bridge of his nose. “Listen, I don’t know Ronnie’s affairs with Blind.” He shrugs and becomes silent as if he’s afraid he’s already said too much.

I hesitate to ask him more. It’s enough that Spencer thinks I’m a lovestruck idiot, which is bullshit of course, but can also work for me. In that moment Blind pulls up out of the water, and it takes a lot of effort not to imagine having his strong hands on me, and marches confidently towards the locker room. How can he do this at all?

Spencer’s staring dully at the water and in the hovering silence I can’t stop the thoughts creeping into my head anymore. The dirty ones. Thoughts of Blind in a shower. The heavy ones. Of the dead guy I never knew. Oh, that’s enough. I came here to unwind so I’m taking a run and cannonball into the pool, covering Spencer with splashes of water, as well as everything around in a radius of at least three meters.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

jane's addiction - splash a little water on it


	3. Chapter 3

_These people are weird in here_

_And they’re giving me the fear_

_Just because you know my name_

_Doesn’t mean you know my game_

_I look myself in the face_

_And whisper “I’m in the wrong place”_

_Is there more to lose than gain_

_If I go on my own again?_

 

One more absolutely useless week spent in 505 hotel. Mostly we’re sitting in our rooms doing absolutely nothing. Couple of parties. Couple of sleepless nights. Ryan’s getting on my nerves with his seemingly endless arrogance. Our Zack broke the other’s Zack’s nose, the Gaskarth’s guy. Why can’t people be creative giving their children names? Once or twice I saw Blind at the parties and even managed to have some small talk with him, I’m not avoiding him, but he had some new girl hanging on his arm, she didn’t give me any chance to have a real conversation. When I tried to ask Spencer about the chick, he just waved it away laughing. “He’s blind. He can’t see the difference.” Stupid idiot.

Granted, I’m completely lost. I no longer understand what am I doing here. I’m going bored out of my mind. That’s where taxpayers’ money is going.

***

It’s always pretty boring to drive with our Zack. He doesn’t appreciate talking, so he just sits staring out the window, while I’m trying my best to make it through the traffic. Vegas doesn’t look particularly fascinating in the light of day.

Ronnie was not in a mood today and sent us to work in the rush hour. Very effective business solution.

“So Zack… How are you doing?” I try to start casual conversation.

“I’m ok, drive, don’t talk to me,” answers Zack in his usual grave tone. I’m really starting to think he loves this job no more than I do. Although he puts all his back into it, you can tell.

“Hey, seriously, let’s talk! I’m bored”.

“Well ok let’s try. Won’t leave me alone anyway.” Zack leans back in the seat with all his massive bulk and I wonder how it doesn’t break immediately. Would be a bummer, I actually love this car a lot.

“Well you’re not wrong, huh, so how’s life been treating you, big man?” So casual, Brendon, you rock.

Zack gives me such a look I’m getting cold feet.

“My dog died.” He answers gloomy and my will to talk dies immediately.

“Uh... okay, let’s listen to some music.”

I reach out my hand to the radio but Zack suddenly asks “What about you?”

“I’m ok, yes. I’m perfectly fine!”

“Problems?” Zack’s voice sounds more and more menacing.

“I’m fine really.” And I can’t say it more sincerely.

“Look nervous.” He frowns at me suspiciously. Honestly in no way I can understand if he’s always this malicious or it’s just his face.

“I’m ok, Zack, what the fuck?” I snap.

No, I’m not. I want to go home, my actual home. I want to spend my time watching stupid comedy shows, eating chips, hating my useless being and missing my ex-wife dearly, badly, endlessly. If nothing else, it would be quite acceptable to sit at my desk at the station and cry over cold cases and tons of blank reports. Why can’t I have nice things? I begin to nervously tap on the wheel.

“Boss thinks we’ve got a rat.” And here it goes, my heart sinks into my boots. I’ll probably be bald before 35. I miss this morning’s idleness and boredom.

“Hm, why so?” I cut in ahead of a jerk in the right lane and he flips the finger to me. It gives me сonfidence I’ve been lacking.

“Well he has these weird phobias, you know. Every fucking month new hang-up. Oh remember last month he forced us to delete facebook accounts? The guys were pissed to no end. Now it’s a rat. And i’m so fucking happy to nose around, duh.” Zack rolls his eyes.

“That sucks man,” I say.

“Yep.”

I feel relief. Seriously, why does every social interaction bring me at least five years closer to my potential death by heart attack?

“It’s not me, if you’re wondering”. Applause, ladies and gents. This is how you do small talk. Wild. Wicked. Bellissimo.

“Well actually I was thinking about your boyfriend Ryan,” mutters Zack.

“What? He’s not my boyfriend!” I snap out. Why should everything be about Ross?

“Oh, so you two broke up?” Zack immediately brightens up like a kid who got candies.

“Ok, I think we really need some music. What’d you like?”

“Is it because of Blind?” Zack asks innocently.

And that’s when I remember why exactly I shouldn’t talk to people. Thank god we’re already close to the designated place.

“Why does everyone think I've got something to do with Blind?”

“Spence told me.” Zack nods with certainty as if Spencer was a broadcaster and said it on national TV. I snort.

“Well actually I saw how you stared at him yesterday.” Wow look at this untalkative guy now.

“We have arrived!” I announce at full volume, parking the car across the road like an experienced taxi driver from chinatown.

“So it’s Blind.” Zack smiles satisfied and I really really want to put his bulldog face in touch with the dashboard, but I’m afraid it will be the last thing I’d do in my life.

“Get out of my car,” I mutter.

“Someone’s got a crush,” Zack says in a sing-song voice.

“Your dog died,” I remind him.  

“So how’s he? I’ve been told he’s good.”

Such a brilliant diversion and he let it pass unnoticed. My ears are burning and I want to scream. But at least we’re at an interesting topic, and by that I mean Blind in general, not only his skills and qualities.

“Oh.. Interesting, who told you that?”

“He’s dead.” Ouch. We exchange glances in silence and a moment after Zack bursts into unquenchable laughter. When he’s done he gazes at me. “No, really, he’s dead.”

“What’s fucking wrong with you, Zack?” I ask sternly. “Go, do your job, beat the shit outta the jackass, just get out.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Zack shrugs and points his index finger at me. “You go with me”. How can I decline when someone asks in such a nice manner.

I’m getting out of the car and follow him showing zero enthusiasm. Employee of a month, without any doubt.

Of course the elevator is broken, and while we are walking upstairs, I consider to do my actual work and question Zack now when he’s in a mood to gossip.

“Ok, tell me about him. Blind, I mean.”

“I think you know more than I do,” he replies in playful tone and chuckles.

“Oh come on, I don’t know anything besides he’s good at giving head. That’s basically all. I have not the slightest idea why he even jumped on me,” I’m ranting, completely out of breath as we’re passing the 6th floor. Summer Vegas is hell on earth. Wearing a leather jacket as semi official uniform doesn't help here at all. I don’t look exactly tough when I’m sweating.

“Maybe he just wants to piss off the boss. You’re his favorite these days.” And I have to admit, this is something new, but it doesn’t make me happy at all. The narrow corridor we’re walking along smells like cat shit. I wrinkle my nose, but Zack doesn’t seem to be bothered at all. “One time he convinced all the girls to claim day-offs in accordance with wage and hour laws. Ronnie was overjoyed.”

I feel weirdly proud of the guy. Once we’re at the place, Zack slams the door with his huge knuckle.

“I’m telling you, I like you, kid. I’ll give you one advice.” Oh, just awesome, I can tell by his look Zack’s going to show me the light. Such a historical moment, I’m truly excited. “If I were you, I would totally visit the 17th floor. The girls there… Lana. She’s classy. She can do that tongue thingy…” Zack lifts his gaze to the ceiling dreamily, but then he continues in a responsible dad voice: “Forget about Blind. The guy will eat you alive. I can’t stand him, he’s creepy as fuck.”

Zack slams the door again.

“How long has he been in the gang?” I dare to ask seeing as we’re best buddies now.

“I dunno… he’s been here before me. Five years at least I guess.”

“Open the door, you crum!” shouts Zack. I hear incoherent grunting from behind the door. “Who d’ya think? Postman! You’ve got mail, dirtbag!” Zack turns to me with a smile that fucking scares me to death and says quietly “17th floor, kid. Seriously.” Then he sighs and breaks in the door with only one impressive kick. I wouldn’t want to catch him on the rebound.

Let’s skip the part where Zack makes a hamburger out of the guy whose only fault was taking black tar from Ross and not paying for it, well the rumors were he raped some teen slut last week, so fuck him, he deserved all he got from Zack, but seriously, I don’t wanna talk about it.

***

Once we’re back in 505, Zack gives me a huge roll of cash and says “Be a nice guy, deliver this to boss, I’ve got some business on the 17th, ok?” He winks like we’re best friends from now. Good. I really don’t want to suffer the same fate as that guy today.

I take a lift to the 22th floor where Ronnie’s work-room is. He lives in a penthouse on the upper floor, but apparently he loves the idea of having The Office.

Soft red carpet dampens the sound of my steps as I’m walking along the silent corridor. Maybe Ronnie is a bastard, but at least he’s got style. Sometimes I feel like a rockstar living here.

One of the doors is open and I automatically peep into the room. The scene coming  into view makes me feel uneasy but I can’t just pass by. At the back of the room there’s Blind sitting on a bed, who else. He stares right at me, well, not at me, in my direction. Spencer sits next to him, leaning down. I peered at the object in his hand, that’s right, it’s a syringe. Of course.

I feel strange anger beginning to boil in my veins. Maybe it’s the domestic intimacy of the scene I’m witnessing that causes it, maybe it’s severe disappointment because I’ve wasted too much time trying to solve the puzzle, while the solution was simple as fuck.

And still, I can’t move and pass by the door.

“Who’s there?” Asks Blind and his soft voice instantly cools down my anger.

Spencer turns his head and looks at me hesitantly, it seems like he can’t decide if he should call my name.

“It’s me, Brendon,” finally I speak and my voice is shaking.

That damn smile appears on Blind’s face that makes the room seem brighter. I try to swallow the lump in my throat.

“I gotta go, Ronnie’s waiting.” I force out the words.

“Brendon. I’m not doing horse, if you thought so.” Blind says hastily. I don’t want to listen, I don’t fucking care, I need to go, now, but my feet are chained to the floor. “It’s insulin. I have diabetes.” He continues, like it’s so important to him that _I know_ this. I feel a knot tightening in my stomach, he waits for me to answer with impatience written all over his face.

“Yeah, good”, I say and run away.

What the hell. What the hell, I can’t stop asking myself, am I doing here. I don’t care. It’s just a job. And it’s killing me slowly. I stand in front of the door to Ronnie’s office and stare at the roll of cash I hold in my hand. There’s blood on it.

 

 

 

marina and the diamonds - outsider


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!  
>  Cringy references alert. I'm sorry.

 

_ And you were sitting in the corner with the coats all piled high _

_ And I thought you might be mine _

_ In a small world on an exceptionally rainy Tuesday night _

_ In the right place and time _

Being dumb as usual on my way back I choose the same way I got here. Frozen in a doorframe of his room anticipatingly stands Blind, making it impossible for me to slide by unnoticed. 

“Wanna come in?” he asks quietly.

His constantly switching mood confuses me to a fault. I don’t want to talk to him. Too many events for today and I can’t process it all, I just want to crawl  into a dark corner and enjoy overthinking, is  that too much to ask? Unfortunately, nobody cares about my modest aspirations and  I’ve still got my duties. My only function here is to get information and the main source is standing right in front of me,  pulling on the too long sleeves of his thin sweater , hanging loose on his lean body. Neither more nor less  does he look like a lost street child of almost two meters in height. 

I  come back to reality and realize I’m staring at him way too long without saying anything. Again. 

“Yeah. I mean why not...”

A small smile appears on his lips and he takes a step back to let me in. Only one step is not enough and I have to squeeze through the tiny space he left me. I curse mentally because he’s too close, and too close is bad, I’m surrounded  by his scent again and it makes me feel numb and fragile. I’m aware that his sudden interest  in me only  arose because of my actual job, not  because of  my charming self, and I’m not going to let him fool me twice. He closes the door behind us, making me  wonder why it was open when he was with Spencer. 

It’s pretty dark in the room since it’s illuminated only by  the red glow of the huge 505 hotel sign hanging on the wall outside right above its windows, and he offers me to turn on the light, but I decline. He doesn’t need a light, me neither. I don’t want to see anything, maybe I just want to be blind for a  short time. 

“Do you want something? Beer? Weed? Whiskey?” 

I shake my head to all three. I forget it all the time, talking is required in his company but apparently he doesn’t mind my selective mutism caused by his presence. I look around the room and I’m truly impressed how clean and tidy it is, to be honest I expected it to be more messy. It’s  much bigger  and  classier  than the room I’ve got. I’m not complaining though, it’s still first class, besides I’m just a driver, and Blind is… I still don’t know. And why do I have to remind myself this is the only reason I’m here. 

“Vinyls maybe? Do you like music?” Blind continues his questioning. 

“Yeah kinda… Is  this  an interrogation?” I keep topping record levels of my social awkwardness. 

“Oh come on, I’m just trying to be nice. Look it up yourself in a shelf  to  your right, okay?” Once again he’s back to his usual sassy self  I was missing. Not. 

I walk in the pointed direction, and find an impressive collection of vinyls  there . I choose the one with a black cover  and  some white flourish on it randomly, because I don’t care about music, mostly it’s just a pleasant noise for me. I set the vinyl on a record player next to the shelf and let down the stylus, and vicious sounds of music fills the room. 

Perhaps it’s his turn to be silent and he sits down right on the floor, leaning to the footboard of a huge bed, stretching his endless legs. And only then I notice that the room desperately lacks of furniture. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” Blind offers with a sarcastic grin. 

I sit down at the other end of the footboard keeping smart distance from him, just in case. 

“What’s up? Cat got your tongue? I’ve been told you’re quite talkative.” Blind says harshly. 

I shrug. “Who says that?”

“Everybody.”

“Everybody? You mean Spencer? I haven’t noticed you’ve got too many friends here.” I’m at my best today, oh fuck it, maybe I’m just not a nice person in general.  

He sneers. “Frankly speaking, you’re not wrong. You see, there are three kinds of people here: the ones who are pitiful to me for an obvious reason, the ones who avoid me for the same reason, and the ones who think that I am too much of a showoff.”

“Note me down as third kind,” I offer without thinking twice. 

“Yeah, I actually thought up that category just for you”. 

I can appreciate the joke, but in fact I’m  torn  between all three categories. Maybe there should be another one: permanently confused. 

We’re listening to the music, speechless, and I let my eyes close. It becomes a weird habit. 

After a while, I feel his palm covering my hand. I wonder if he’s able to survive without physical contact for five minutes. I move my hand aside and regret it instantly. I just don’t want to give him a chance to play his tricks on me, even if I want it  on  some deep level. 

“He lied about you, didn’t he?” As usual Blind wants to talk more than I do. 

“Who are you talking about?” As usual I have no idea what's going on. 

“Ross.”

Oh well. “Do you know him?”

“I know everyone here.” He says proudly like a boy bragging about his toys. 

Lazily I turn my head to look at him. He sits  with his head thrown  back, revealing a chiseled jawline and incredibly long neck, his skin is so pale it almost glows in the dark. He’s unbelievably, obscenely beautiful, he’s impossible, this boy. I don’t want to stare at him, still I do. He could’ve been a model, not sticking with a dickhead like Ronnie. 

“Yes, he did. He lied. He’s not able to tell truth at all. What did he say this time?” I’m sick and tired of talking about Ross. 

“That you both got fired from the police because you had an affair.” 

“We got fired because he convinced me to steal drugs from an evidence room for him. He thought that if he’d play the discrimination card it would save his ass, but it didn’t work.” I sigh. Actually I’m sick and tired of even thinking about Ross. 

“Why did you let him convince you in the first place?” He asks but his tone says he already knows the answer. 

“Because I could never say no to him.” And this is the truth. Almost. 

We never had an affair in a common sense, but he knew, he always knew that I would do anything for him. He’d been keeping me on a hook for years somewhere between a yes and haha fuck no, and I’d been trying to save him from his self-destructive nature. Stolen punch drunk kisses with a taste of cigarettes, the best of starts, the dead end. My wife left me when she realized she’d always be third wheeling. He got fired and I got six months on an  unpaid  leave. Then Linda appeared with her bright idea to insert me in Ronnie’s gang considering I already had a solid cover story and Ryan had already warmed up a place for me here. Damn you Ross. I say it way too often but still not enough. 

“So you have diabetes?” I ask with my well-known delicacy and intelligence just to change the topic. 

“Ah yeah, I’m a walking disaster,” Blind sneers and continues “That’s how I lost my sight, if you’ve been wondering.” 

I’ve been wondering. And now I feel sorry. 

“I’m so sorry.” I hate these words, they are so useless and meaningless. 

“Don’t be, it happened hundreds  of  years ago, and I’ve  gotten  used to it, I can’t even imagine what it's like to.. You know. I have someone to look after me, and I’m better now. But yeah, some things can’t be undone.” He can’t stop messing with his hair, his voice is quiet and it surprises me how he’s struggling to find words. I like it when he’s not trying to flaunt. And it’s a strange feeling, we’re talking about sad things actually, but his voice comforts me, and I feel weirdly happy and weak. 

I realize that the music’s not playing anymore and I’m jumping  to  my feet to  flip  the record. Walking back to my place on the floor I see some familiar object on the bed. Oh damn.

“What’s this, dictaphone?” I ask sharply, and welcome back my anxiety, strained nerves, and a feeling of a close fail. 

“Yes it is, why so nervous, officer? Do you think our pity party can get anyone interested?” Blind laughs dryly. “Relax, I’m not recording our sob-stories.” 

“What for then?” 

“Actually, I’m writing a book. Or, more to the point, I’m telling a story.” His voice sounds excited now, all the apathy is gone in a second. Unbelievable. 

“And what’s it about?” 

He’s so obviously happy that I’ve asked that it takes a minute before he replies. 

“It’s about a boy, his name is Jamie Brobeck, who travels between parallel universes, you know, sci-fi stuff.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but I think I’ve read something like this before…” I never think before I speak. The words they will carve on my tombstone. 

“Well yes, you’re right, but the key is in the details… Jamie is a boy with a phenomenal memory, and it helps him to solve different crimes while he’s trying to find his way home, to his original universe,  he  got lost you know…”

“Sounds like a best-seller for me!” I’m trying to save the day, but I fail as expected, because  I see his expression falling, changing to his usual poker face. 

“No, you’re right, it’s just a garbage. But you know I’ve got too much time to kill.”

I sink down  to  the floor, this time much closer to him. 

“And how else do you kill it?” I ask just to get closer to the essential topic.

“Well I study, listen to lectures and books.” I can tell by his apathetic voice  that  he’s not interested in talking to me anymore. Good job, Brendon. 

“I tried with criminal psychology once, but there’s nothing new to me,” Blind chuckles. 

“Am I the only one who sees the irony?” 

“Curiously enough,  you are. I mean people are not very observant in here.” 

Blind can be pretty intimidating but for  some  reason unknown I feel so peaceful around him right now, and completely clueless of what  I am doing now I rest my head on his shoulder. I feel his body  tense , where did his debauchery go? Caving in to the first sudden impulse I press my lips to his neck. It’s not exactly a kiss, it’s my concentrated despair to distill the secret, and for a moment I can feel the pulse beating underneath the smooth skin, but he flinches away from the touch. “It’s getting late, Brendon, I think you’re tired.” He says quietly but his words dumbfound me, and not having energy to get up to my feet or even say a word, I’m just sitting there, and my head is on his shoulder, until the music stops, then he kisses my temple and mutters: “Go to your room.” 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

arctic monkeys - knee socks 


	5. Chapter 5

_Sort of feels like I’m running out of time_

_I haven’t found all I was hoping to find_

  


Of course there’s another sleepless night following that. Three beers - and I finally got my thoughts together. It’s as clear as day, the boy was just playing with me while I was spilling my guts to him. Who the fuck did he think he was? What did he want from me?

At first he so meltingly tells me his stories, than he just pointedly mocks me. It’s absurd. He’s aware who I am and what am I doing here, why won’t he just tell Ronnie to get some loyalty scores? Any guy would do that having the opportunity. Seemingly, it was enough for Blind that Ronnie was taking care of him, letting him do whatever pleases him. Looks like he’s got a great little life here. But what makes him so significant?

Maybe this job is not for me. Linda would solve this in a week. Maybe two. And I’m stuck in the middle of something I couldn’t comprehend, getting lost in details and gossip, adding my own sentiments and affections to this abyss of despair. Even Ross could handle this better than me. Oh fuck it, I should call her.

I’ve been contemplating like this for a week with my customary invincible slowness, spending the days in my room drinking, drowning in self-pity and overthinking, and evenings - drinking at the pool, chatting with Spence and shamelessly staring at Blind exercising.

Finally I came up with a perfect excuse and headed to Ronnie’s office.

***

It’s Zacks shift as boss’s guard, he winks at me and carefully knocks at the door. “Boss, Brendon is here.”

“Let him in”, follows the answer, and I’m walking in.

Ronnie sits at the massive wooden table, there’s a sheaf of papers in front of him, and the glasses hanging on the tip of his nose make a ridiculous contrast with his neck, covered in tattoos. Although I’m actually proud of my own tattoos, Ronnie just never knows when to stop. He’s inked from head to toe.

On a couch, too short for his impressive height, lays Blind with his legs crossed and hands behind his head. He looks completely relaxed and peaceful, and the whole scene reminds me of a psych therapy. A lot. I’m not an expert. I’ve only seen it in movies.

I wasn’t ready to find him here, and again my stomach flips nervously, maybe I should visit a doctor at some point.

“What’s up Brendon?” Ronnie glances at me over his glasses like a modest accountant clerk so ready to help me to fill out my annual report of earnings, but I can’t get rid of the thought about how much blood he has on his hands.

“Uh actually I wanted to take a day off,” I mumble.

“A day off? Are you overworked?” Ronnie sneers. “Lately you all have been lounging around the hotel, and honestly, it’s getting on my nerves,” He mutters peevishly.

I shrug. Actually he asked us himself to lay low and not to show up in town.

“I just wanted to visit my wife, uh... ex-wife. She lives in LA.”

I shift my gaze to Blind, but he hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Oh kid, why’d you want to see her?” Ronnie asks.

“I don’t know… I think I’ve been missing her, you know. Maybe it’s not too late.” _It is._ I look at Blind again but he hasn’t even flinched, he’s just laying there with that smile frozen on his face and honestly I don’t even know what kind of reaction I expected. It doesn’t matter. In fact, nothing matters except the job. I got carried away, it’s true, and I have to get over it.

Ronnie takes off his glasses and glances at me carefully. “Believe me, kid, if a woman has left you, it is too late. I’ve been married twice, you can trust me here.”

I just don’t understand why everyone consider it necessary to give me advice. Wait for it, he’s about to send me to the 17th floor.

“If I were you, I would’ve stop by 17th. I’ll have you know, there are not only girls.” Here you go. Blind chuckles and I want to throw something at him. Something heavy. “Anyways that’s on you. If your want to take an airing, go ahead.”  Ronnie hangs the glasses up on his nose and returns his gaze to the papers. The audience is over.

Closing the door behind me I hear Ronnie saying quietly “Let’s continue,” and Blind’s sniff in response.

***

_"Linda, it’s me, Brendon."_

_"Are you out of your mind? Why are you calling me in broad daylight? Oh I hope it’s really important."_

_"Relax no one’s eavesdropping."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Yes, yes, I’m in LA."_

_"What? Why? What are you doing there?"_

_"I’m visiting Sarah. Kinda. Nevermind."_

_"Oh dear god, Brendon…"_

_"Listen, you have to get me out of here."_

_"What? No! You just got close to Ronnie!"_

_"Yeah, yeah I know. Remember you said that I could get tired, lost, depressed, feel troubles with self-identity because of this job, right?"_

_"Brendon…"_

_"I’ve got all of the mentioned, now just get me outta here, please."_

_"What are you talking about? Get your shit together. Did you find out who covers up Ronnie?"_

_"Nope, nobody_ _knows shit_ _. I’m useless here, Linda. I’m gonna fail the case very soon."_

_"Calm down, okay? What about the blind guy? Did you dig up something, anything?"_

_"Yeah, kinda, but it’s uh irrelevant information."_

_"What? Are you high?"_

_"No. Just tired. Maybe."_

_"Oh come on, suck it up! If_ _the_ _situation stays the same of course we will get you out of there. Rumor has it Ronnie’s preparing a big deal and he’s going to put an end to his shady enterprises. Is it true?"_

 _"Yeah, looks like it. Ronnie said to hole up, and all I do is... Drink and_ _run_ _mad."_

_"Do you understand that he’ll tie up loose ends and we’ll never get him? You have to dig up something while it’s not too late! Do you have anything else besides whining?"_

_"Linda…"_

_"Then go to Vegas and do your job."_

_"Linda."_

_"What?"_

_"I’m useless here. It’s just a matter of time when they’ll discover me. Then I’m dead."_

_"Ok, listen here, cry baby. There’s a guy we’ve made a deal with… Ronnie’s guy, ok? If shit hits the fan… he will help you, ok?"_

_"Who is he?"_

_"I can’t tell you. He’s taking a risk collaborating with us. Now go to Vegas. Do your job."_

_"Linda… Ok you’re right. I can do it, no bigs. Ok. How’s Wentz?"_

_"He hates you. Go to Vegas."_

***

 

_"Hey, Brendon."_

_"Who’s this?"_

_"It’s Blind."_

_"Where did you get my number?"_

_"Spencer."_

_"Of course, Spencer. So. Why are you calling me?"_

_"I’m bored. How’s LA?"_

_"Hot as hell. I’m driving back to Vegas, I’ll be there by morning."_

_"Ah, good. How’s_ _the_ _wife?"_

_"Doesn’t want to see me."_

_"Sorry."_

_"Don’t be. I hate to say it but Ronnie was right. Whatever, I just needed to change surroundings… to clear my mind, you know."_

_"Did it work?"_

_"Everything was fine before you called me"_

_"Oh well."_

_"Can someone_ _eavesdrop_ _?"_

_"Nah, everyone’s at the party."_

_"Why am I still alive?"_

_"This is such an obscure question."_

_"Ok, let me rephrase. Why didn’t you rat me out to Ronnie?"_

_"I still don’t get it, sorry."_

_"Well then I still don't get why_ _you’re_ _calling me. Are you high?"_

_"No. I said I was bored."_

_"Can’t help you here. Go screw somebody’s brains, this is how you entertain yourself, right?"_

_"Brendon, I wanted to uh... say sorry."_

_"What for exactly?"_

_"Maybe sometimes I act weird."_

_"Maybe? Sometimes? No way in hell!"_

_"Yeah. So. Here it is. I’m sorry."_

_"Don’t be."_

_"I didn’t mean to hurt you."_

_"You didn’t."_

_"Good. Drive_ _safely_ _, Brendon."_

 

***

I had a suspicion that Ronnie could’ve easily sent somebody to keep an eye on me, or more likely, someone could easily trace my car’s GPS. Technologies, huh. That’s why I had to make it on to LA just to call Linda. Which was practically useless. Well now I know for sure that Ronnie’s concerns about a rat in the gang were perfectly reasonable. It doesn’t make any difference to me. It’s highly unlikely that one of the Ronnie’s guys will risk his neck to save my pathetic ass if everything goes to shit.

The whole day I spent at the beach, staring at the ocean and, well, girls in bikinis and now my boots are filled with sand. Once upon a time… Sarah and I had a dream to move to LA. Damn Ross. When all was said and done she moved of course. I didn’t dare to go to her house today. I didn't want to see her happy without me.  

Right from the start we both knew I’d fuck it up. She was perfect. Beautiful and smart, funny, she lived so carefree, not letting the small worries of life grind her down. We didn’t last long, but she was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I lost her.

Maybe it’s for the best for everyone involved.

It’s 3 am and I stare into the darkness of the road through the windscreen. Blind’s call unsettled me even more, though I thought it’s impossible. Then again I almost got used to this amazing feeling of having no fucking idea of what’s going on.

 

 

 

 

 

Arctic Monkeys - Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?


	6. Chapter 6

_Run, you’ll never escape,_   
_You see you go nowhere (so new you appear),_   
_Broke, laid to waste,_   
_Turn into sweet nothings,_   
_That kiss you goodbye._   
  
_The truth hurts so bad, wouldn’t you say?_   
_So why tell it?_   
_If ignorance is bliss,_ _  
Then I’m in heaven now._

Once I’m back in my room I see Ryan fucking Ross lying there on my bed as if it was his own.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I greet him. Not very polite of me, but I just want to hit the pillow and sleep for ages.

“Well hello, Brendon. How’s Sarah?” He smiles and honestly I’m not in the mood for a nice talk.

“She hates me, thank you very much. Now fuck off, I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

“Come here, what’s holding you back?” He’s high as a kite, obviously.

“You. Go away.” I answer keeping it short and sweet.

He so obviously enjoys everything that’s going on. Instead of responding he taps the bed beside him.

Well fuck it, I’m too exhausted, so I just take off my jacket and jeans and throw them somewhere in the direction of a chair, intending to drop down to sleep in a shirt that smells like cigarettes and sweat, in other words - just disgusting.

“Move over,” I growl.

He laughs at my words, but moves aside, giving me space in my own bed, and I get under the blanket, turning my back to him.

“Boss wanted to see you once you’re back.”

And for once in a while my weariness is stronger than my anxiety, that’s how tired I am.

“Yeah, can’t it wait?” I grunt pulling the blanket up to cover my ears.

“He wants you to take Blind for a ride to the city. To have fun. Such an honor, huh?” He spits through clenched teeth.

“Don’t care. Wanna sleep.” Brief and to the point, though the mention of the certain person makes me feel sick, as well as curious, alarmed, and even more tired, and maybe I just want to get some private time to get on with this unexplicit mix of feelings.

“Everybody’s talking about you having an affair with Boss’s pet. It hurts, you know, to see how fast you moved on and forgot about me once you saw another pretty face.”

“Get lost, Ryan!” I snap, but roll over to look at him and I see unaffected grief in his gaze. Right when I thought nothing can surprise me anymore at least for today. “Oh come on, now you’re jealous?”

And for the first time to my personal memory George Ryan Ross III has nothing to say. His amber eyes, bright and restless, that once I thought were so beautiful, are glued to mine, as if he’s looking for something in me desperately, and can’t find it. Oh this gaze, it’s so painfully familiar. Most likely this is exactly how I’ve been looking at him for all my life. Such an ironic twist of fate. I would laugh right to his face if I had some energy left.

“I think I’ve made a mistake. I told him about you…”  He sighs dramatically, turning back to his annoyingly pretentious self.

“What are you talking about?”

“Couple of months ago… I was bored and you weren’t here…” Ryan rolls his eyes. It looks like everyone gets bored immediately when I’m not around. “He’s quite an interesting person, you can tell, and I was curious and well, we’ve made some chit-chat. Or not only chit-chat. I heard you already got an idea, too.” And now it’s my turn to practise eye-rolling. Fuck them both, really. “It seems that you happen to be more appealing to him, rather than me.” He looks at me steadily and I have no idea what he wants from me now. “As well as he seem to be more appealing to you.”

“Ryan. That’s enough. You have no right to do this now. I’ve been after you for all my life, and you never gave a damn. Because of you I made almost every dumb decision in my life, because of you I lost my job, my wife, and my house, and you couldn’t care less. Thanks for ruining my life. What do you want from me now?” I’m losing my temper, but my speech would probably sound more convincing if I could suppress my yawning more successfully.

“Brendon,” he mocks me. “You’re probably right, I could be a dick sometimes, but listen… It’s not my fault Sarah left you. You were falling apart long before uh.. Our dismissal accident. I’m not good at giving advices… Never was. And it’s too late anyway. But you should’ve been more attentive with her. She was lonely.”

He looks at me with sadness in his eyes and somehow it makes me long for his previous arrogance badly. I used to see him as a reckless boy, too smart to care about anything in the world, who was getting everything he wanted too easily, and so easily he’d gotten bored. Now we’ve grown up, kind of, it’s more like we’ve ran out of steam, and he’s still the same - a smart talented kid, going nowhere fast, but I see all the things I’ve never noticed before. Dark circles under his eyes, stubbly chin, teenage acne scars on his pale sunken cheeks, his dirty thin hair, and his shaking hands. And probably I look exactly the same way now. Worn out. Tired. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should stop blaming him for all my failures. It’s funny how sometimes extreme weariness makes us come down to earth. It looks like I’m having some kind of a sudden existential crisis, but it doesn’t mean I’m all set to put up with his presence in my bed.

“Get out, Ryan. I’m too tired for this.” I roll over, turning my back to him once more.

“You’ve always been looking for something more, Brendon. That’s why you’ve became a cop, that’s why you’ve broken into the evidence room, that’s why you’re here now… that’s why you’ve made all those, as you said, dumb decisions. It’s not me. Sarah was never enough for you. And I’m afraid that I’m not enough either.” He says his last words with a chuckle. “Just be careful, ok?” He sighs and, a moment later, his stubble scratches my cheek, when he kisses it. I close up my eyes shut, trying to banish the thought - here it is, what I’ve been longing for years, within easy reach, just take it.

Ryan jumps off the bed easily. “Don’t forget, Ronnie’s waiting.” He leaves the room and closes the door behind him. I’m trying to concentrate. I need to think about something he’s said, but I don’t remember what exactly, and I’m falling into heavy sleep within seconds.

***

“You’re taking Blind to a show,” commands Ronnie the moment I’m walking in. My mouth drops open.

“What? You asked us to keep it low? Not to show up in the city?”

“See, Blind is bored. I’m tired of his whining so it’s better to give him this stupid concert or whatever. I’m not ready for another round of his bitch-fest. So, you take Zack and Spence. Go.”

“Ah yeah, Boss, I’m flattered, really, thanks for the vote of confidence but I didn’t sign up to be a nanny.…” I grumble, but he keeps going, ignoring me.  

“Keep the guys sober so Zack won’t pick a fight again. Don’t get into trouble yourself, watch Blind, don’t let him talk to anyone, and… Yeah. Try to stay unnoticed.” Ronnie gives me instructions looking at me strictly. He’s probably waiting for me to note them down like a shopping list. “Understand? Go.”

That’s just great. As if Blind with all his quirks wasn’t enough, now I’ve got to babysit Spence and Zack. This isn’t really how I pictured working with a criminal boss. But it’s definitely a better way to spend some time than trying to find a place in the desert where no bodies were buried yet. To bury another one. I gulp. “Sure.”

“Ready!” Blinds steams in the room, all dressed up and shiny, smiling brightly, and I curse mentally. My life’s getting more and more like some cheap sitcom. I can almost hear canned the laughter.

“You gotta be kidding me,” I groan.

Usually he wears some plain grey hoodie and worn out jeans, but tonight he’s got into black skinny jeans and a leather jacket, and ridiculously huge sunglasses are covering a good half of his face. Awesome. Staying unnoticed walking with _this_ around the city has to be easy as fuck. Who helps him to get dressed though? Why am I even thinking about it?

I’m still mad at him for his call last night, for the smile that makes me feel so warm, and for everything he does in general, but I’ve got to admit, he looks stunning.

“Why are you wearing glasses?” I ask when we’re going down in the elevator.

“People are scared of my eyes.” As always, he’s just stating a fact.

“I’m not.” And this is true. Mostly I’m scared of the nervous excitement I’m experiencing being around him. Oh Brendon, get your shit together. I think I should get this tattooed on my forehead.

“You’re not scared of anything, right?” He grins. “Ronnie asked to blend in with the crowd.”

“Yeah, two meters of an idiot wearing sunglasses indoors looks so inconspicuous.” I sass just to annoy him a little.

“Okay,” he admits surprisingly fast, and takes off the glasses. “Is it better now?”

He turns his face to me and I almost gasp. I don’t know why I feel too hot in my own skin.

“Much better.” It’s so easy to speak the truth. His glassy eyes stare somewhere past me, blue and grey, like a lake of ice, like autumn skies.

  


 

QOTSA - 3's & 7's

 


	7. Chapter 7

_ I've never so adored you _

_ I'm twisting allegories now _

_ I want to complicate you _

_ Don't let me do this to myself _

_ I'm chasing roller coasters _

_ I've got to have you closer now _

_ Endless romantic stories _

_ You never could control me  _

 

Zack and Spencer are already waiting for us near my spit-polished car. And yes, I spent a good couple of hours this morning polishing it, postponing my visit to Ronnie and thinking about Ross’s words. Beyond all of that, I really love this car. I could never afford such a fancy vehicle with a cop’s salary and to be completely honest, I’m gonna miss my baby when all this shit is over. Who I am not gonna miss for sure - these guys. Their faces glow up when they notice us, and I can tell they are dying of curiosity. Stupid idiots. 

Zack grabs  Blind by the elbow and literally shoves him  in the back seat. “How are you today?” Spencer winks at me.  

“Splendid,” I mumble. Last thing I need  are these two old babblers gossiping and telling stories to everyone here in 505. Besides they’re going to do this anyway. I think I should just grin and bear with it.  

All the way during our ride Blind sings along  to the radio, and hands down, he’s got an ear for music and a nice voice. And don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to witness him being all happy and flourishing, but seeing his amused face every time I look  in the rear  view mirror doesn’t help at all if we’re talking about safe driving. Spencer’s giggling like a teenage girl. 

Once we’re at the place, Zack hangs Blind  onto my arm. “Hold this,” he says with a smirk, “I’m gonna settle things with the security guys. Be right back.” Then he runs away, taking Spencer with him.

So I stand there half-disoriented, with Blind leaning on me heavily, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city, and the hot air burns my lungs. So far this summer has been incredibly hot. They said we hit some maximums for the decade or so. Global warming, climatic change and we’re all gonna die and stuff. I don’t really care about the weather prognosis, the only thing that still bothers me - will I be alive by the end of this week, let alone  the next 25 years. 

Blind takes my hand and his palm is soft and warm. There’s a line forming at the doors and I lug him off to take a place in  the queue. 

“Where are you dragging me?” He asks almost timidly. I look up at him and notice he’s lost his enthusiastic drive. Oh. I got used to his super ability of magical sense of direction, but whatever it has been, it doesn’t work outside 505. He obviously has no idea where he’s standing right now. 

“To the line? We gotta get inside?” I reply half questioningly. 

He draws me back with such a force that I’m almost falling on him. “No, don’t be foolish, Zack’s gonna handle this.” 

“Uh, yes. Right.” I mutter. And though we’re staying in the same position he doesn’t let go of my hand. 

I find myself thinking of how actually nice it would be to drag him out of this loud and crowded place.  To not wait for Zack and Spence’s great  return , and  to just  go somewhere, wander aimlessly around the city I’ve been missing so much lately, till our feet ache.  To talk  when there’s nothing left to talk about, maybe grab some junk food, maybe some cheap wine, while I’m not too old, while I haven’t turned to dust, then find a room in a motel with old fainted neon sign, drop to  the bed, nestle close to him, and just sleep. I know he’s one of those who’s built exclusively of sharp details, elbows, knees, ribs, and probably he’s not too good of a pillow, but I want to revise it myself. 

“Ok, follow me!” Zack’s gruff voice breaks my improper daydreams. 

It is so weird to lead Blind, as he takes his steps carefully, and I feel uneasy. His face is stone-cold again. 

We follow Zack to the first row  on the balcony, where he shows us our seats, and he and Spence take their seats  in the next row behind us. Our outside seats are pretty shitty, of course, but they are complying to  the “keep it low” concept, so I don’t complain, and Blind doesn’t care, obviously. 

The venue is loaded with shouting and sweating people, it’s even  hotter here than outside, though I thought  that’s impossible. Oh teens, they think they’re all so unique, with their stupid fake leather jackets and bright-colored hair, yellow, and pink, and blue - but from the balcony I can  only see the dark grey mass of empty heads. For a moment I get jealous. I want my head empty. I want to feel stupid and careless. But then I remember I’ve got a gun under my jacket and everything’s in its proper place once again. 

The opening band  has already left the stage. I feel  a migraine coming with a snap at the back of my head, and the buzz is just getting louder. Blind leans down to me and his long bangs tickle my ear. “Isn’t it awesome  that we’re here?” 

“Crowds make me anxious,” I answer honestly. I love to think it’s a cop thing. Crowded places are simply dangerous.

“I’m never anxious.” He shrugs. Right, as if I haven't seen him five minutes ago shifting on his feet hesitantly like Bambi on ice. But if the boy wants to look tough, I’ll let him have it. 

The band Blind has dragged us to this hell hole for finally comes out on the stage. The musicians don’t look any better than Ronnie’s guys, and just for the record, Zack could knock the hell out of  the singer with one hook, and in all modesty, I could do this easily too. They start to play, and Blind leans forward. The music sounds heavily and hypnotizing, maybe like old blues, but less sophisticated, though I’m no expert, but I like it. I think I’ve heard it before.  

We don’t have  the best view on the stage from our seats, and I’m more  interested in watching Blind’s face profile out of the corner of my eyes anyway. He sways to the music and sings along, with his eyes closed. I like his soft hair that hasn’t been cut for quite some time, falling down on his face and covering his ears, and how he runs his long fingers through it every other minute. I like his sharp features, his cheekbones and his firm chin. I like his thin lips and his funny nose. The beat of my heart synchronizes with the beat of the drums, the rhythm is slow and steady, then the music explodes and, like a punch, comes a thought - I like him in general. I turn round to Zack and Spence in  the hope that just a moment’s survey of their rowdy faces will shatter my sudden delusion. Their eyes are focused on the stage, and they don’t seem to pay attention to me, or Blind. 

I realize, we’re still holding hands, I think he never did let go of my hand from the moment he took it outside. His palm is just huge, this is so new for me, and my hand flinches. Immediately he turns his face to me. 

I know what’s about to happen, I see it in his smile, and he leans  close to me and presses a soft kiss to my lips. It lasts for only a moment, but there’s tenderness, it’s fair and so real, and I feel dizzy when he pulls away. 

“Always wanted to kiss someone to this tune. Like in a movie, right?” He smiles satisfied with his little performance, and I’m really glad he can’t see my long face. I’m not a fucking someone, and if we’re in a movie it’s probably a crappy one. I love it when he talks about things  he doesn’t have the foggiest idea of, not to mention I’m always very enthusiastic over him making a fool of me.

“You haven’t seen a movie in your life!” I shout right to his ear, and yes I want to hurt him, I just don’t think it’s possible at all. He shrugs and sinks into the music again. 

I turn to Zack and see a silent “told ya” in his gaze. 

Yes, they all talk and talk. I never listen. And I’m quite convinced I’m doing the right thing.  It’s too late to die young for me anyway. Blind’s still holding my hand.

***

I report to Ronnie at his office, as I’ve been told to. No fights, no black eyes and broken noses, Spencer is cold sober, nobody seemed to notice our little field trip, and most likely I’ve lost my mind completely and entirely.  The l ast thing I don’t say out loud though. 

“Good job there, Brendon. I knew you can handle this.” He nods contended, resembling a painted hoptoad now more than ever. 

“Babysitting three adult men is not my job, Boss” I claim, still mad. 

“Big deal! I’ve got to do this all the time.” Ronnie shrugs and then goes on in confidential tone. “Tomorrow it’s all gonna change, kid. For the better. I asked you guys to fly under the radar for a reason. We’re going to be straight-arrow businessmen, how about that? I tied up a large-scale deal with good people.” He quiets down and seemingly waits for the audience to burst into cheering. The audience is just me and I’m trying my best to look surprised. 

“What are you talking about?’

“I bought a hotel chain on the east coast! I’m done with all  the shady business .  From tomorrow  on we are so legit, white and fuzzy, I’m already thinking of charity and other privileged classes’ stuff! Still have to think what to do with the girls… But what for everything else -  it’s all over!”

That’s what Linda was talking about, Ronnie wants to retire, and this, ladies and gents, means I’m fucked. Big time. I’ve got nothing.

“Yeah, this is so cool, Boss, congrats,” I force out my very sincere greetings. 

“I know, I know, you guys are used to  bashing brains out left and right, but we can’t do it for eternity. I’m too old for this shit. It’s time to hit the next level, to clear my name and start a new respectable life. Maybe somebody’s gotta be pissed, well, good riddance!” Ronnie waves his hand and by his face I can tell he’s already imagining his face on a Forbes cover. And all I can see is red-faced Wentz yelling at me in full view of everybody, and me collecting all my belongings in a box, and Kenny patting my shoulders with sympathy... Then - suffocating loneliness of nights spent in front of the TV, alcohol, and self pity, and a desolate death, and maybe Sarah will drop a tear above my lonesome grave. 

“I’m with you Ronnie, this is a very wise... decision.” I mumble. 

“Good for you, kid! You can have a great future here with me!” Ronnie is overexcited. “Tomorrow I’m throwing a party! A classy one. So suit-up! There will be very important people, so try to behave. Oh, and by the way, seeing as you’ve made friends with Blind…” He makes a dramatic pause and I want to scream. When  did those two jerks blew out everything? I went to the office immediately after the show, I didn’t even take time to pee. “Well, watch over him, okay? I would gladly lock him in his room, but then he always needs to retaliate, he’s such a pain in the ass, really.” 

I sigh loud. “ Why couldn’t Zack get him?” 

“Because Zack’s reserved for my guard. Besides I’ve noticed Blind’s got more quiet since he’s preoccupied with you.” I roll my eyes so hard that for a second I’m actually scared they’ll never go back  to their normal position. “Don’t worry, once I seal the deal, I’ll find a good place for you, you’re a smart kid. I always remember those  who’ve been loyal. “ Ronnie smiles at me fatherly. 

Look at me finally getting appreciation. “Ok, Ronnie. But what do I have to do with Blind?” 

“Well, just keep him busy. You’re good at it.” He winks at me and I feel nauseous. 

***

On my way back I’m not even surprised when I see Blind, stuck  to his room’s door frame, obviously waiting for me. 

“Wanna come in?” he asks. 

Mentally I flip the finger, but aloud I say “ Aren’t you tired? Go to sleep.” And I can’t help but smile,  finally feeling somewhat satisfied, passing by. Linda will kill me. 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
Panic! at the disco - far too young to die


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge chapter alert !!

 

_ Deep down we both knew you were troubled by design _

_ And the echo of my mother's words “baby, don't you play with fire” _

 

The party is  at its height when Blind finally appears. He carefully threads his way  through tables and people and I’m truly impressed with his dexterity. Gotta admit he looks just gorgeous in a suit, and it seems to be so effortless, I’m getting jealous. Who buys clothes for Blind? He has no idea what he’s wearing and still he looks like some high fashion model. He just has it. Me? I’ve spent two hours in front of my mirror, and still  feel like  I look like a clown in this jacket though I’ve paid fair amount of money for it. I approach him, casually shoving over a waiter and almost knocking him down, and take Blind by his elbow. 

“Hi, Brendon,” he smiles. I love how he always recognizes me, though I’m not special, he knows everyone here, but still. Let me have it, okay? 

“Ronnie asked me to look after you.” 

“Oh how generous of him to ask you specifically,” he says. And though his tone is full of irony, I see him smiling happily and I wonder why. I’ve already learnt that this specific smile of him means he has something up his mind, and  there’s no way this can be good for me. 

Ronnie nods to me from the opposite side of the hall. For the first time here the party doesn’t remind  me of  some punk orgy. The girls have dolled up and now act like ladies sipping champagne, with their little fingers sticking out. A flushing Zack tries his best not to jump out of his pants while that girl, I guess her name is Lana, whispers something in his ear. Beyond all question she’s classy and absolutely can outdo every single one of these trophy wives we’ve got here in plenty today. 

“It looks like a circus, right?” asks Blind. 

“Wait so you do know how circusses should look like?” I reply without thinking twice, as usual. I’m mad. What else is new?

“I do know from books,” he says, not offended in the slightest. “You’re mad at me, why?” 

“No way. You are the sweetest. How can somebody be mad at you?” I say hastily.

“So you are. I said sorry,” Blind sighs. 

“Yeah. Once. Or did you apologise in advance?” I think I nail the whole “keep Blind busy” thing, at least he doesn’t look up to some shit anymore. Actually he looks a bit upset. Oh why should I care at all. 

“Kinda. I don’t know. Maybe you just got me wrong?” He shrugs. “But I can say it again. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad.” 

He smiles sheepishly and I feel bad for him. Maybe I should try to be nice with him for once but the thing that bothers me - I don’t know  what he wants from me. I’m not good at people. And when this party is over my job will be over as well. I’ve failed it completely. And his smile can’t just fix it. Moreover the thought that some conscienceless boy can fuck up my mind so easily doesn’t bring me any comfort. It just makes everything worse.

“Okay let’s clear something up. I just wanna know how exactly I should get it. At first you do this thing nobody asked you for  on the balcony, then…”

“What thing? You mean  a blowjob?” He grins and just when I’m about to groan something really incoherent in response because I’ve ran out of patience, a dumbfounding sound of shooting makes all the thoughts and the buzzing noise of the crowd, disappear. In a rain of shattering plaster falling out of a wounded ceiling, there stands Gaskarth with a smoking gun in his hand, all his guys are behind him shoulder to shoulder. Well fuck. 

“What a fuck?” Ronnie shouts and by his red face and his eyes all bulged-out I can tell it’s time to cut ass. I pull Blind by his sleeve but he doesn’t move. “You always run off when the things just start getting interesting,” he whispers and I curse mentally. Did he read this line in a book too? 

“Ronnie, my friend!” goes Gaskarth in a dramatic manner exactly like some aging prima donna on her benefit night. “You threw a party and didn’t invite me? Friends don’t do that.” I feel my right eye start twitching and I pull on Blind’s jacket sleeve with a vengeance. “Let’s get out of here,” I scream-whisper. But  he’s rooted to the ground and I look around in search for an exit. All eyes in the room are pointed at Gaskarth and Ronnie, and it’s a perfect time to sneak out only if I could get Blind moving. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve lost a friend. And I’m not talking about you, Radke. A good friend of mine has been gone missing two weeks ago… And  the last people he was spotted with.. That’s right,  they were your guys, Ronnie. That pit bull of yours and the sneaky one.” 

Oh shit. Two weeks ago. He’s talking about Zack and… me. The sneaky one. I like it. The moment I realize I’m gonna be finally dead for real soon I feel Blind’s hand on my shoulder. “Okay, now it’s time to go,”  he mutters and lugs me aside in a direction that in fact is absolutely opposite to the main exit. Nobody’s paying attention to us because  in this moment Ronnie takes the floor to defend his guiltlessness in the mentioned accident, and I follow Blind, then he pushes me through a door that I never knew was there. When he closes the door I hear shooting and screaming and other sounds of the  Apocalypse coming. 

“What the hell is going on?” I groan, as quiet as it’s possible. 

“Apparently Alex is very upset that you and Zack violently murdered his boyfriend.” 

I can’t help but groan again. “We didn’t… murder him. He just. Died. Pure accident. And there wasn’t anybody who could see us.” 

“Who knows? Zack’s not exactly a gentle guy. Someone could  _ hear _ you guys.” 

I remember the stuffy corridor, the smell of cat shit, and Zack pounding at the door. Damn. “What are we gonna do now?” 

“Well we can sit here and wait while they’re shooting each other. No one knows about this place.” 

“Sounds like an awesome plan.” I admit and take a look around to find us in some narrow hallway with dim lights. All my life now seems to me  like a long narrow hallway with hundreds of doors  that just lead to other  hallways and I can’t find my way outside. Immediately I feel  the lack of air and miss the open space. 

“Such a pity, looks like Alex just crumbed Ronnie’s deal.” Blind chuckles and I look at him. 

“Was  that your handiwork?” I ask suspiciously.

“No, why would you think that?” He pouts and I don’t believe him in the slightest. 

“Where are we?” 

“Some staff lobby, I don’t know,” Blind shrugs. 

I’m trying to calm down and think up my possible actions but screams and sounds of shooting from behind the door don’t  exactly make for a relaxing background. I’m not used to hide in this kind of situations, my mind screams against it, and my heart beats violently in my chest. I should be there in the hall, I could try at least to save someone there. Anxiety shakes me.    


Blind leans against the wall and closes his eyes. His face looks so peaceful, but his hands are clenched into fists. When I’m ready to say something even more sassy to get him out of what seems to be imperturbable serenity I hear knocking  on the door and I almost jump. 

“Somebody’s knocking,” I whisper. 

“Well then open the door,” he replied carelessly.  

“Are you insane?” I whisper-yell at him and lean to the door to listen out. 

I hear hurried voice from behind the door. “It’s me, Ronnie, someone’s called the police. Take Blind, get out of here and lay  low . I’ll get everything squared in a two weeks at the farthest, now go!”

I open the door and the noise from the hall stuns me. 

“You idiot, close the door, no one should see you!” Ronnie hisses. I see  a blood red stain spreading over the white silk of his fancy jacket. “Run and hide him okay? In no case cops should get him, understand?” I slowly nod. Ronnie stares into my eyes with a despair I never expected of him. “I know I can trust you. You won’t let something bad happen to him, right?” 

I look over his shoulder and see Gaskarth laying there in the middle of the hall with his eyes staring dully at the ceiling. 

“Now go!” Ronnie spits and shuts the door. 

I turn back to Blind and see a pleased smile forming on his lips. 

“You will protect me, Brendon? You won’t let something bad happen to me?” He grimaces and I want to punch him in his perfect face.  

“Oh shut up, let’s go!” I say and seize his elbow. 

“Yeah, and you know exactly where to go?” He keeps mocking me. I shake my head, he’s impossible, and I’m totally going to kill him once we’re at a safe place. “That’s what I thought. Do you have a gun at least?” 

“Yeah, I always come with guns  to parties.” I try to put maximum sarcasm into my words, but actually this is true. I always come with guns  to parties. It has been a cause of a good many incidents, but that was also a reason why I wasn’t invited to lots of parties. 

“Follow me,” he says. He goes down the corridor and I barely keep up his sure steps, internally cursing his long legs. Sometimes he halts and slides the wall with his fingers, I hear painfully familiar sounds of sirens from behind it. 

“Here it is.” He stops short and I crush into his back. “Watch your steps!” 

“That’s funny coming from you,” I snap and he sighs.

“Okay, here’s a plan. We’re  on the tenth level near the fire escape. Do you see a door to your right?” I see the door to my right and I hum quietly. “We’re coming out and… are you sure you got a gun?” I groan. “Good. I guess there’s the police, Gaskarth’s guy, Ronnie’s guys and only god knows who else. So we have to run very fast to the left to the fire escape, got it?” 

“I’m pretty sure the fire escape is blocked by the police too”. 

“Well they are your people, you can ask them nicely to let us pass.” 

I looked at him in awe. “Oh dear god. Honey, what do you know about the police? Was it in your stupid books? We don’t work like this. I’m undercover, which means everybody’s thinking  I got fired, reached rock bottom, and work for Ronnie to get by.”

“That’s what I thought, but a boy can dream? It could be way more  easy this way… Okay, change of plans, then we need to run to the right to another fire escape.” 

“But there’s only one fire escape in the building,” I object. 

“And I’m glad the police thinks that,” he giggles. “We replaced the building floor plans in the town master planning authority archive years ago. There’s another fire escape.. And other things. It was my idea by the way.” 

“Fucking  genius !” I sneer but he ignores me. 

“Take your gun, you go first.”

“Oh so you need me to protect you after all?” 

Blind makes a wry face. “If you haven’t noticed before I’m not exactly good at shooting. And no matter how much I enjoy hanging out here with you, I’m not that dumb to underestimate the Law Enforcement Forces. Soon they will find the fire escape and we will be trapped in the building. We need to hurry.”

I’d better stayed here with him in this smothering semi-darkness. I fling the door open and for a moment bright light of the hallway dazzles me. I hear the screams and sirens all around but the hallway is surprisingly empty. 

“It’s clear, let’s go!” I mutter, turn to the left intending to run, but Blind grasps my shoulders and turns me to the opposite direction. 

“To the right, you idiot!”

I grab his hand, and I run.  The next second I hit a staff cart on full speed. I shriek and fall to the floor, drawing him with me, but he drops my hand immediately. 

“God dammit, Brendon, are you blind?” he shouts and I would gladly appreciate the irony, if I hadn’t noticed Kenny The Man Harris, my favorite ex-coworker, running towards us down the hallway with a gun in his hand. 

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot!”

“Do something, Brendon,” says Blind and I know exactly what he’s asking for but damn I can’t kill Kenny. I aim my gun at him and try my best to stare dead in his eyes in most intimidating way possible, but I’m not sure it’s working considering I’m still laying on the floor. 

“I’ll shoot,” Kenny repeats but his voice is shaking and it sounds more like a question than a warning. “Urie?” 

“See, he’s not really sure about this,” sneers Blind. 

I aim my gun at the wall and shoot. Kenny looks at me uncertainly, I nod to him, then he slowly turns round and runs away. 

“Are you all such cowards there in the police?” stiffs Blind. 

“Oh shut up! Thank god Kenny is too nice to kill you on the spot.” I try to stand up but the moment I step on my right leg sharp pain strikes and I scream. “Damn it! I think I  twisted my ankle.” I try to take another step and I cry out again, remembering all the curses I ever knew and inventing a couple of new ones. “I can’t walk.” I resume at the end. 

Blind shifts on his feet hesitatingly then stretches out his hand to me. “Come here, I can carry you... piggyback.” I look at him doubtingly. “Hurry up, I hear somebody else’s coming!” 

I can’t hear anything, the blood is pounding in my ears. 

***

“You should eat less chips and more vegetables, you know,” he grunts but keeps walking surely, as if I was featherweight. I whine from time to time bouncing on his broad back at each step. 

“Could you be so kind to shut up? You’re distracting me,” he mutters. I’m afraid he will stub and we’ll fall and I’ll crumble pressed under his long body, though maybe it isn’t the worst way to die. “Okay, I think it’s here. There’s a room to your right, what’s the number?” 

“It’s 108,” I howl. Blind pushes the door and what a surprise, it’s open. He walks into it and I hit the doorframe with my head.

“Sorry,” he giggles and I groan again. What a day. 

In the dark I can’t see anything at all, but apparently we’re walking downstairs, and he strides surely, overcoming stairways one by one, I only hear his smooth breathing and his echoing steps. He’s very strong and I’m doubly thankful for his everyday trainings in  the pool that was so much of a pleasure to watch. He doesn’t say a word until we’re  on the first level, when he finally stops and pulls me up to adjust me on his back. Of course I scream in pain. 

“So we’re here. There, outside, has to be Spencer’s car.” 

“Do you realize that the hotel is most likely  cordoned off?” I pinpoint truly impressed by his naivety. “They’ll shoot us without a warning!”

“Can you drive?” He ignores me again and I start to panic. Nobody ever listens to me.

“I can’t drive when I’m dead!” I answer but before I can say anything else he opens the door and hot night air fills my lungs. I see a dark alleyway with dumpsters, and surprisingly the way is clear, there’s nobody guarding the door. This is amazing, god bless the shortage of personnel in the police, it looks like the main forces are concentrated in front of the main entrance. “It’s clear,” I say, but Blind stands still in the doorway. 

“What the hell are you waiting for? It’s clear, let’s go!” I hiss into his ear. 

“I don’t know where to go!” he replies huffily.

“What? I thought you knew everything!” 

“Oh shut up! I’ve never been outside the hotel without fucking escort. Do you see the car?”

“What  the ... Is it a van? Spencer’s car is a mint foam green van!?” I can’t believe my eyes. 

“Yes, yes, give me directions.” 

“Oh my god... Just go straight forward.” He starts moving, faltering, taking his steps carefully and I feel not even uneasiness but a dull pain somewhere inside my chest. His usual insolent behavior  is always fooling me, and everyone, makes me forget how helpless he actually is. 

Once we’re approaching the van I tell him to stop and he carefully  puts me down. Dark skies are illuminated with flickering of the police flashlights and spotlights of whirring helicopters and the noise is so loud, I can’t hear my own thoughts. I know I’m missing something important, but I don’t have time or energy to concentrate, and my leg hurts like a motherfucker. 

I help Blind to get into the van, jumping around it on my healthy leg. I find a key left in an ignition lock and start the car. “Who left the keys here?” 

“No idea, drive, let’s get out of here,” Blind replies carelessly. I think he’s having a good time with all these adventures.  

And I drive, trying to keep it slow, without drawing attention, but as we pass 200 meters  we are stopped by a police woman. Finally, somebody’s doing their job. I wind down the window and the short-haired woman with a dismal face peeps into the car. “Who are you and what are you doing here? The district is  cordoned off, ” she says, so obviously tired and bored. And this is an example how a police officer should never talk with citizens who could be severe offenders considering they’re casually driving in a district where a major arrest operation is taking place, but she evidently doesn’t care. 

“Carpet cleaning!” shouts Blind from the shotgun, all enthusiastic, and I flinch away when he stretches out his hand in the woman’s direction and waves some ticket in the air right in front of my face. I turn to him in a silent shock and see him with sunglasses on, and facepalm mentally. A very convincing cover story. What an idiot. 

“Carpet cleaning? In suits?” Policewoman asks skeptically and I fully understand her concern. 

“Yes ma’am. We’re working with VIP clients, and we have to look the part.” Blinds smiles, all charm and sunshine, and I want to punch him, twice in one day, but the ma’am waves her hand and let us pass. I feel deeply offended, that’s not how the police should work. I would never permit myself such an outright neglect, being a responsible officer, but still I almost got fired. Well yes, I stole drugs from an evidence room. Whatever. 

“Where are we going?” Blind asks in  the most innocent tone possible and I explode. 

“You knew it right from the start! You knew what was gonna happen! Did you call Gaskarth? Did you call the police?” I shout, pressing on the gas more violently than I should, and the van’s engine roars agonized, but I don’t even care. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad in my life. 

“Don’t yell at me!” he pouts. “Well maybe I did something … But wasn’t it your goal to put Ronnie in prison? Be happy now, I did it for you.” 

“Not like this! Do you even realize what you  did ? This is a fucking mess!” For the lack of words I hit the wheel accidentally pushing a horn. 

“Calm down,” Blind drawls patiently.

I’ve got nothing to say. I want to go home, swallow a large quantity of painkillers and fall into unconscious sleep. And only then I notice that I was unwittingly driving in the direction of my house all this time. 

“What are we gonna do now?” I ask in order to keep a nice conversation. Everything is useless now. It’s all over. My job is over, as well as my life. As soon as Ronnie will “get everything squared” and find out who was the troublemaker, he’ll find us, and he’ll kill us. Well, he will kill me. Because for  a reason I still fucking  _ don’t know _ Blind is too important. I knew it right from the start, I wasn’t good for this job. I warned Linda, I warned everyone, but nobody takes me seriously. 

“We will lie low… Ronnie asked you to hide me, and that’s what you’re gonna do. It’ll take an eternity for him to pull this through, he’ll never find us.” He laughs happily. “You know, I’ve always had a dream to live on the south of France. I’ll have you know I speak French fluently.” And then he begins to sing with such a passion I almost choke on air. A moment after I recognize “Non, je ne regrette rien”.  Unbelievable. He’s obviously gone insane. And I did too. 

“How long you’ve been planning this?” I ask when he finishes the chorus. 

“For all my life.” He turns his face to me, leaning back in his seat, his eyes are closed, and he grins. Does he care I’m a dead man now? Just one glance at his peaceful face is enough to kill all my anger, and despair, and fear. 

“What  have you been waiting for so long?” 

“A fair chance and good company,” he replies, still grinning at me. Oh my god. 

“So you think I’m a good company?” And yes this is the only thing that still interests me on this glorious day. 

“You are the best, Brendon.” He replies and I smile. Maybe at some point I needed my life to be completely ruined to feel this. I sit here in a shitty van with a blind and obviously insane man, running away both from the police and the gang, not to mention my most likely broken leg, and I fucking smile because I’ve never been so happy in my life, so violently happy.

  
  
  
  
  


  
  
Cage the elephant - Too late to say goodbye   
  



	9. Chapter 9

 

_Light the candle_

_Lock the door, too_

_Draw the circle_

_I'll fall into you_

_Divination cieromancy_

_Comes the card that_

_I refused to see_

_There was a violence in my head_

_I was surrounded in my bed_

 

I’m drowning in his scent; I guess my brains just decided to ignore the chain of events that have lead me to the place I’m in now, that is - I howl in pain wrapping my hands around Blind’s neck and my legs around his torso, and I try my best not to suffocate him. My head hurts, and my right leg is killing me.

Then I fumble with the lock for a good 5 minutes because my fingers refuse to work properly while Blind just stands there in silence in his favorite position, leaning against the wall. When I finally open the door and turn on the light, I’m shocked by the modesty - verging on poverty -  of my own apartment, comparing it to the luxury of my 505 hotel room.

“Come in,” I snap over my shoulder and then on a second thought I add: “Oh, and be careful, it’s kinda messy here. A lot of.. stuff on the floor..”

He steps into the apartment and I close the door behind him. Immediately he leans against the closed door not daring to take another step.

“I think we need some airing here,” I mutter and hop to the window. Then I get to a kitchen counter and after a solid minute of searching I find a pack of painkillers and swallow two pills. “I have to warn you, I have no food here.”

“I’m not hungry,” he answers quietly. I turn to him and see he hasn’t even moved.

I hop over to him, take his hand and lead him to a couch. The last thing left from my past life with my wife is this couch. The only interior feature I’m actually proud to own: low-key stylish, madly expensive and absolutely out of this hole of a place, exactly like Blind in his gorgeous suit. I sit him down on the couch. Surprisingly he’s so pliant, just like a giant rag doll in my hands.

“Do you want coffee? I think I have something left here…” I offer but he shakes his head.

I plop down on the couch beside him and stretch out my legs on the coffee table with a groan.

“How’s your leg? Maybe we should get you to a doctor?” Blind asks.

“Nah, I’ll be fine within half an hour.” I wave him off.

“Well then maybe you should call to your uhh people and find out how it’s been gone?” he continues.

“Nice to see that you know my job better than I do,” I mumble grumpily.

I hop to the bedroom, though it’s seemingly useless, he probably can hear every word dropped on the other end of the line with his exceptionally keen hearing anyway.

When I’m back to the living room I see him in exactly the same position I’ve left him.

“Looks like they got them all. Well except for me and you. And Gaskarth’s guys too. That dumbass took all his guys to the party, smart isn’t it, huh? By the way, he’s dead,” I report, completely aware that I don’t have to.

Blind smiles tiredly. “Good. This time Ronnie won’t talk his way out of it. There were over fifty very important people who saw how he shoot Alex. He can’t get away with a murder committed in front of that many witnesses. He can’t gag them all.”

There are wheels turning inside my head, and I’m sure Blind can hear them creaking. That’s why he did it. Such a brilliant, carefully calculated plan, and it didn’t work. I sigh.

“It wasn’t Ronnie who killed Alex. Zack did it.” I specify.

Immediately Blind changes his countenance. I thought he couldn’t look any paler, but now it’s like all his blood was drained off.

“It can’t be... What are you talking about, I know Ronnie through and through! He had to smash Alex up with his own hands, he fucked up the deal!”

“People are not puppets, honey. They don’t always act as expected.” I love to talk trivialities. Yay me.

A severe disappointment is written all over his face, and I would’ve patted his shoulder, but I know how annoying it can be. Poor guy. My clever boy. Surely he has tried to do this not once. And not only with that dead guy. That’s why Ronnie guarded him so carefully, trembling over him. Blind has been stuck on this loop for years. The story of Jamie Brobeck he has told me now plays out in fresh colors.

He buries his face in his hands and groans. “So then Zack goes to jail, and Ronnie’s going to be freeside in two weeks at most. Oh fuck. I screwed up. Royally.” He starts rubbing his face violently, and I’m afraid he’s going to tear it off. I never saw him in such a despair and I don’t know what to say. I’m awful at comforting people.

“Hey, we still have two weeks. We can run far far away. We can hide.” I reassure him, although I have no idea how it could be possible. Did I really think I could follow this crazy to the ends of the earth? I don’t even know what he’s been running from.

Blind shakes his head. “No, no, the plan was... Ronnie should land up in jail for long. But now… He’ll find us, Brendon, and he will kill you. Then he’ll lock me up, and find a safeguard much better than you, and Spencer. No offense, but you suck.” And right when I’m about to reply I didn’t sign up to be his guard, he continues in grave tone. “But at first he’ll kill Spencer. Oh god.”

I wanted to ask what he was talking about, but apparently the pills started kicking in, my body relaxes and I’m losing my train of thought. So we just sit in comforting silence, and I’m falling into a slumber. My eyelids become heavier; Blind’s whole body shivers as my head falls to his shoulder.

“You’re falling asleep. Go to bed. I can sleep on the couch.” He says quietly.

Even the thought is ridiculous, how could he fit on this couch with those legs of him.

“Don’t be foolish, my bed is pretty big,” I say blearily, trying to remember if I do have a bed here at all.

“Should I carry you?” Blind offers. “There’s no problem, really.”

“No, I’m good.” Even though I’m not opposed to the idea, I see he’s tired too. I stand up on both feet carefully, the pain is still here, but it’s not that sharp anymore and I can walk. I’ll probably regret it tomorrow, but in all honesty, there will be so many other things to regret anyway.

Lamely I lead Blind by the hand to the bedroom where I drag off a dusty bedcover and shake off the blankets. We undress in silence and he awkwardly climbs into the bed. Great white shark washed astrand. I feel sorry, so fucking sorry for him, but in this moment I’m making a promise - I will never say it out loud.

***

As if on purpose the thoughts start attacking me aggressively as soon as my head hits the pillow. I can’t sleep, and I know Blind’s not sleeping either. We’ve got into so much trouble, and I don’t have the foggiest idea how we’re gonna get away with this mess.

After a while he moves closer and presses his lips to my bare shoulder. There he goes again. But I don’t mind, maybe this is the only way you can feel you’re not alone in the darkness, and I need it too. Then he musters up courage and leans over me, our stomachs are touching, and I’m trying to examine his face, but it’s too dark to see anything. I touch his cheek carefully, it’s soft and warm.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” The words just tumble out, but I don’t care anymore, I’ve been missing the freedom to speak up my thoughts for months.

“I’ve been told,” he says with a small smile. He’s stating a fact, as usual, but jealousy bites me immediately. I brush it off. Fuck it. He’s mine for tonight and I’m not going to screw it up with some stupid...feelings.

“You have no idea... how much I would give away just to be able to see you.” And for the first time he sounds sincere. “I bet you’re so very beautiful.”

“I've been told,” I lie. Nobody ever said that. But if he wants beautiful, I’ll be that for him.

With a snap somewhere inside of my head all my thoughts leave me. First, as always, I rise upward and catch his lips. He kisses me back eagerly like I’ve never seen him before, pushing me into the mattress. This is a new and strange feeling - to be with someone who’s so much bigger and stronger than me, who wants to take control, and I give up immediately. I feel warm and safe, and I melt in a trice. Maybe it’s just my brain clouded with the pills I’ve taken. Maybe I just want to be weak. After a close call, and the months of false pretences and constant stress, fuck yes I want it. Blind pulls back carefully, pressing his forehead to mine, panting.

I cave in to meet his warm body again and he sighs. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks quietly and I nod. I can feel fucking everything through the thin fabric of his underwear and I can tell he wants this as much as I do.

“It’s just… I’ve never done this before. You know what I mean,” I mutter. I don’t know why it matters, here, in the dark, after all that we’ve been through.

“Let me lead then,” he smiles into my lips.

 

 

 

 

 

the afghan whigs - oriole

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use wikipedia writing my stuff and hope no real doctors will ever read it.

_ You keep a lot of secrets  _

_ And I keep none _

_ Wish I could go back  _

_ And keep some  _

_ You’re fireproof  _

_ Nothing breaks your heart _

_ You're fireproof  _

_ It’s just the way you are _

 

The f irst time I wake up  is  when I hear  a  crashing sounds from my living room. I assume it’s Blind trying to explore my apartment and I smile spitefully, but before I could make some comment on that or at least open my eyes, I’m falling into the slumber again. 

The s econd time I’ve been woken  up it’s because  Blind’s talking  to  someone  most  likely on the phone. He calls some numbers and spells out a name I’ve never heard before, and then I realize that  he’s most likely  ordering some food. Oh that’s cute but also incredibly stupid of him. I get  a  sinking feeling  because of it , I should stop him but my body refuses to perform and I can’t even lift my head up  from the pillow. I’m relaxed to a fault, and I feel like I’ve melted into  a  prebiotic soup state. 

The  third time I wake up  is  when Blind kisses my cheek. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty, I ordered breakfast for us. I mean pizza. It’s already here.” 

What’s better than pizza for breakfast? It’s a rhetorical question, obviously. “What do you want from me?” I groan.

“I want you to get vital nutrients, obviously,” follows the answer. 

“With pizza?” I ask doubtfully. 

“I’m trying to be nice here actually.” 

“Since when?” I open my eyes to see Blind in yesterday’s shirt, unbuttoned, and boxers, hovering over me. Fantastic. I hope that’s exactly what he’s been wearing opening the door to a pizza delivery person. Well in fact he looks beautiful, as per usual.   
I feel sore as if I was hit by a truck yesterday. I strain myself and try to get out of a bed, but just when I’m stepping on my right foot I fall into Blind’s welcoming embrace with an agonized cry. 

“We  should definitely  get you to a doctor,”  Blind says in a worried tone and to be honest I find it extremely suspicious. 

Sometimes I can be really slow-witted, but the only thing I know for sure is that people don’t change, at least not in a matter of one night. Not even if it was  _ such _ a night. 

I haven’t changed. I remained the same  loser from  the night before who ran into the staff cart and now can’t walk.    
Blind carries me to the living room bridal-style. 

“Your place is so small and messy, it’s kinda hard to navigate,” he says disapprovingly. And though I completely agree I reprove. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m just a poorly-paid cop, not some criminal boss, and I can’t afford a presidential suite. I mean I get it, your spoiled ass is accustomed to getting whatever you want,  with  the snap of your fingers, but welcome to the real life. It’s pretty shitty, but you’ll get used to it.”  I immediately regret being so cocky when he sighs and lands me on a chair at the table as if I was just a petulant child.  

“Are you always so grumpy in the morning?” 

“You just haven’t seen my good side yet.”

“Or have I? Maybe you’ve got something else to  _ show _ me?” he asks but there’s none of the  usual spite in his tone, he seems so distracted, I’m not sure if he needs my answer.   
In that  moment I realize I’m still completely naked.

There are two boxes with pizza on the table and the view is enough to make me feel better. 

“Hm… coffee?” I drawl out demanding. 

“How do you imagine me making coffee?” he  replies , more automatically, he’s still somewhere out there in his thoughts. 

I realize this is where I should probably stop acting immature for no reason and take care of  myself, so I hop over to the kitchen counters. 

Blind sits at the table with his eyes closed, propping up his chin with his knuckles, so peaceful, so innocent, just like  the  girl with peaches in the soft light of a calm morning from that painting you probably have never seen. If only I could stop staring at him and think for a moment, and catch the thought that was disturbing me  from  the moment I opened my eyes this morning. Sometimes it’s so hard for me to concentrate and this guy’s presence just makes things worse.  

“Eat your breakfast and then let’s skip over to your station,” Blind finally breaks the silence and my jaw drops.

“What?... What about the south of France?”  

“Oh come on! As if you really were going to run away with me,” his lips curl in  a  sarcastic grin. 

Again. He’s right. Well maybe for a moment I imagined myself in the middle of a sun drenched lavender field, but then the morning came, and in the light of day things were shaping to seem way more prosaic for me. I sigh. 

“But you can’t go to jail! How do you think what they’re gonna do with… someone like you there?” I never thought about it before saying it out loud , but now my imagination helpfully suggests me dark pictures, one after  another . 

“Did I say I was going to jail?” Blind smirks and look who’s back in business. However I’m glad to see his smug face again, it’s way better than yesterday’s grimace of despair . “I’m only talking about the station.” 

I make myself a cup of coffee forgetting to offer one to him, but karma backfires when I splash a good half of it hoping  back  to the table. My leg hurts as hell, it’s already swelled up and I’m not sure I could put on a boot. I need a doctor, obviously. Maybe I could ask for some medicine for my clinical obliviousness. “What makes you think you’re not going to jail after that?” 

“Well I’ve never gone beyond the law in my life.” Blind shrugs carelessly and my cup stops halfway to my dry mouth. 

“Okay, so what exactly were you doing for Ronnie then?” I ask distrustfully. Was it possible that  the day I’d actually find out finally came ? 

“Oh I will gladly tell you!” His face lightens up. “At the station, on my own terms.” 

I don’t reply because I’m busy chewing pizza, and I think this is the best pizza I’ve ever tasted in my life. And the coffee is amazing. And Blind is surprisingly bearable. It seems like life’s getting better. I would freeze us in time, him sitting there so pretty and quiet, and me having the best breakfast I could wish for, naked.

“Ready to go?” Blind asks when my cup is drained. Perfect sense of time. 

“Well I’m still.. not dressed, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m not sure you’re able to drive.” He stays silent for some time and then out of nowhere, not even turning his face to me, he  quietly says : “I love you, Brendon.” 

My heart skips a beat, or maybe five, but oddly enough I stay conscious. I don’t know what to say, because I remember  the first time we met , and the second one, and the third and maybe I’m missing something, but I also clearly remember last night and I know what it did mean to me, and what it obviously didn’t, for him. I can’t find a place for love in this equation. Just some romantic bullshit from stupid books I’ve never read but his head has been filled with. 

“And I love when you have no idea what you’re talking about, I think I mentioned that before.” Did I? I said  it  more harshly than I should. But I’m mad again and I don’t even know why. I examine his face expecting to see  a  hurt expression maybe, it would be really nice after all, but it shows absolutely nothing. Well, good. 

“Okay, maybe you’re right. I don’t know why I said that.” Blind sighs. Still nothing. 

“I’ll call my partner, she can get us a lift, if you haven’t changed your mind.” 

He simply nods. Great. Maybe somehow I can still save my pathetic ass if Linda will get him talking. But most likely he has a plan. Just another brilliant plan. 

***

“I’m officer Linda Ignarro, how about we chat a little? Okay? I’m going to record everything. So… introduce yourself.” 

Blind doesn’t respond, his face is blank as paper. And again he’s going to act up to the bitter end. Linda sighs. “You can start by stating your name.” 

“Blind.”

“This is not a name. And I can’t call you that, it’s inappropriate and is not exactly politically correct.” Linda is stubborn as a mule when it comes to terms of equality and large mindedness, which makes her actually kind of narrow-minded at some point. She stands up for minority constituencies, and Blind  to  her is a person with a visual impairment , which means he’s a minority, and she can’t call him by this stupid and wrongful nickname. She thinks he needs a special treatment, and I can’t wait to see how she starts to sing a different tune after ten minutes of casual talk with this specific disabled person. 

“Oh I see. So you’re one of those people? I’m Blind. I can’t give you any other name.” 

“Well then I’m going to call you Unknown.” See? Linda is stubborn and I like it. If she can’t get him talking - nobody can. 

Blind chuckles. “Unknown. I think I like it.” Linda intently examines his face just like me that first time I talked to him, there, on the balcony. Oh, sweet memories. 

“Okay, maybe you’d tell me what exactly was your job for Ronnie.” 

“Ah yes, but I will  only talk to officer Brendon Urie,” he says carelessly and my jaw drops. Again. I think something is wrong with it. Linda unintentionally turns her head and looks at me through the glass. 

“Brendon’s at the doctor’s, he’s currently on a sick leave,” Linda says confidently, and Blind laughs  in  response. 

“Oh so we’re  in  one of these rooms with a mirror glass?” He turns his head and waves his hand somewhere at my direction. Well, close enough. “Hey Brendon! Come here, let’s chat!” What an idiot, but somehow I feel weirdly proud of him. God, I’m so lost. My leg hurts. Everything hurts. I press my forehead to the cold glass surface. Just  a  useless attempt to sink through it into the room.  

“There’s nobody there,” Linda says in a matter-of-factly voice, but I can see she’s quite confused. I forgot to tell her about Blind’s tricks. Oops. 

“You looked over there.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did.” Oh look at these two, they’ve found each other. 

“No, I did not. How did you lose your sight? What happened?” Linda changes the topic and I want to scream “Told ya!” because she’s obviously already pissed to no end. 

“Diabetes. I was a kid and I don’t remember the details.” Even Linda’s surprised  he’s finally started to talk. 

“What caused that? You didn’t get a special treatment?” 

“Oh well, my dear mother was too busy with her...  _ clients  _ to pay attention… wait a minute! Oh you’re good!” Blind points at Linda with his index finger and laughs. She rolls her eyes. “Okay Linda, get Brendon in here. I’ll talk only to him.” 

“Unknown. Officer Urie is on sick leave. He’s not here.” 

Linda is thinking up her next question. He baffles her, this boy, and I feel bad for her. But she won’t let him fool her, she’s a professional. She bombards Blind with questions for  about half an hour  but he’s in stand-by mode. I have  the feeling that he knows me way too  well . He knows I’m not going anywhere till he talks, even if I can’t step on my swelled up foot. The only question is when did he study me this well. 

He demands to call for me.  _ Me _ . Linda announces a break and walks out. 

“Why did you even drag him here?” she spits at me. 

“I didn’t. It was his will.” 

“But why if he doesn’t want to talk?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Oh and what do you know? You’ve been hanging around Ronnie for three months and haven’t found  out  shit!” I have a feeling she’s about to punch me in the face and I’m not exactly excited about that. 

“I was this close!” Nope, I wasn’t. “But out of nowhere you decided to make a rush  to  505 and here we are,  with  basically nothing.” I try to defend myself. 

Linda rubs her face with a groan. “It wasn’t out of nowhere. Someone called 911 and said that Ronnie and his gang were holding hostages there. We couldn’t ignore that.” Well shit. 

“Of course it was an anonymous call.”

“Interestingly it wasn’t. A certain Jamie Brobeck called. We checked, there’s only one person with this name, but he died in 1984.” 

And here I am, ready to break down in tears. Of joy, mind you. “That’s him.” I giggle hysterically. 

“Him who?” Linda looks at me with bemused impression, she obviously thinks I’m just some hardcore imbecile, and  I can kind of relate . I inhale slowly, and though I’m tired of getting myself together, I get myself together anyway. 

“Blind.”

“It’s his name? Jamie Brobeck?” Linda asks skeptically. 

Jamie Brobeck - the boy with a phenomenal memory. Oh and why am I so dumb?

On  the  verge of a  meltdown  I cruise around the room, hoping, of course. I know I look like a madman, but I can’t stand still. Not now. 

“No. Not a name. Listen, I’ve got an idea. Wait here. Gotta talk to him.” 

Linda approaches me in one jump and grasps my shoulders, and I squeak, she’s surprisingly strong for such a subtle blonde. Not to mention she’s tall. And really intimidating. “No, no, no. You can’t do that. You’re a witness. You can’t talk  to him. We can’t afford any violations for this case, you know Ronnie’s advocate, he’s an actual shark.”

I’m thinking about her words, pretty reasonable, for a minute and then the answer comes naturally, paired with the thought I’ve been trying to catch on the whole damn morning. 

“Well let’s formalize it as a cross examination or whatever. Use your imagination, you’re so smart! And ask Dan to check who the fuck Dallon Weekes is. ” 

  
  
  
  
  


 

The National - Fireproof


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my amazing beta [masterassassin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterassassin) once again for being amazing and incredibly patient with me. 
> 
> Also, dear people who are still reading this story: you are my heroes. 
> 
> Warning for the chapter: unfunny jokes. Like really.

 

_I’m not sure if I should show you what I’ve found_

_Has it gone for good?_

_Or is it coming back around?_

_Isn’t it hard to make up your mind?_

_When you're losing and your fuse is fireside_

 

“Brendon wait! You can’t do that…” Linda almost pleads, but it’s a little bit too late. As graceful as it’s possible in my current state I burst into the room and fall into the uncomfortable chair, facing Blind. Linda follows me and considering the lack of furniture in the interrogation room, she just leans against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest and her face displaying overwrought angst.

“Jamie Brobeck? So funny…”

He smiles at me. It _is_ funny how we never notice obvious things that have been right in front of our nose for a long time. Now, the images I’ve seen but never paid attention to start to fall into place in a fascinating slideshow. Blind’s swimming surely in his lane in the pool, Blind’s standing up in front of me there, on the balcony, his fingers sliding on the wall right above my ear, semi darkness of his almost empty room, Blind’s laying on the couch at Ronnie’s office. I still have no idea what all these images have to tell me but I’m about to ask the only person on earth who knows what exactly is going on.

“Well hello Brendon, it’s been quite a while, how’s your sick leave going?” he asks with a smirk.

I don’t have time for playing, no matter how much I do want to, I can feel it with every cell of my aching body, _our_ time is running out, just slipping through my fingers like sand. “It was you who called the police. Why did you even mention Jamie?”

“I just couldn’t help it.” Maybe he feels it too. His face becomes serious. “I thought you forgot about Jamie boy. People always forget names and things they think are not important.”

“Yeah, but you are the one who always remembers, right?” Smooth as usual, I move on to matters. Linda watches us carefully, and I see she’s completely clueless where this is going. Well maybe I’m not exactly aware either. Blind doesn’t respond. “Enlighten me, what was your job for Ronnie.”

“Nothing. Literally nothing. Let’s say I’m just a nice person to talk to.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re not a nice person at all?” Linda asks him irritatedly. As I’ve said, one hour of nice conversation with this fellow is enough to wake up all the repressed anger a person could have been hiding deep inside for ages.

“Yeah, Brendon never misses an opportunity to remind me of it”.

I sigh. I’m going to miss him dearly when it ends. I miss him already. “Let’s try again. Please, be nice and add some details.”

“Nope. I want you to use that brilliant intellect of yours.” He never gives up on acting out. Stupid idiot. So full of himself, silly boy. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m going to settle the case, maybe for the first time in my life.

“Oh, thank you for not contributing at all, though I thought you came here to help us,” I mock.

“Nope. I came here to have some fun before everything goes to shit.” Blind mutters and I roll my eyes.

Everything already went to shit. He fucked up, the police fucked up and here I am, just an ordinary guy with a twisted ankle that hurts like hell, trying his best to save for at least his job. I turn to Linda.

“I think I should elaborate some things. See, our Ronnie is somewhat of an old-fashioned guy. I prefer to call him a paranoid, but that’s a judgement call. Anyways, he’s the only person I know who still uses that old Nokia, with funny buttons, you know, the one that couldn’t be destroyed by anything… Oh I saw a funny video on YouTube where a guy dropped a replica of Thor’s hammer on it and the screen was completely shattered but he could still call it and it ringed...”

“Can you just get back to the essential topic, Brendon.” Linda’s running out of her patience and what can I say, sometimes when I get excited I’m unbearable. Blind smirks and I can’t help it but glance at his finally somewhat happy face. I see the dimples I’ve never noticed before. Damn dimples.

“Yeah, you’re right. Well, Ronnie has a ridiculous amount of fears, like someone could bug his phone, hack his PC, break into his room and piss on his pillow. I mean we tried to do everything, except for that last one thing,” at these words Linda snickers. “We failed because he never even had a PC in his office in the first place.”

“Why are we talking about this now?” Linda asks impatiently. “Can you just... Formulate your speech more clearly?”

“I mean we never actually found any entries about his financial operations? His official accountancy is all clean and clear, but where are his secret ledgers?”

“Well yeah we couldn’t find anything but how is this related to Ronnie being a freak? Also we know for sure all his black accounts are formally established on some phantom, what’s the deal?”

“And did we find this phantom?” I ask sardonically.

“No.” Linda’s face becomes long. No shit, she would choke me right now, but it’s kinda illegal. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Blind’s raising his hand like a humble student in class but I prefer to ignore him as Linda continues. “But still I don’t see where are you going with this... nonsense. You’re wasting our time here, simultaneously violating all the instructions one could think of and even more. You shouldn’t even be here.” Her fake soft tone and the way she’s looking at me… It’s not even about the case. It’s about her being a superior detective and me being a pathetic loser. She hates it when someone rubs her nose into her failures. I feel my face burning and when I’m about to say something really inappropriate Blind quietly coughs.

“What?” I almost bark at him.

“I need to visit a restroom.” He says timidly but when I look at his face I see that damn sarcastic grin.

“Can’t it wait?” I ask sternly.

“I feel some tension here, so if you’re going to keep fighting for dominance, I’ll have you know I put my money on miss Ignarro, and seriously, I need to pee.”

And right here my limits of being a nice person for one day are surpassed. “No you don’t. Now start talking. You wanted me, I’m here.”

Blind pouts but doesn’t say anything.

“What the actual fuck?” Linda looks at me with wide eyes. “Brendon, let’s go out for a minute, we need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” I breathe in and then out. Something still doesn’t add up and I can’t concentrate on what I’m missing. “See, here we have a man as blind as a bat...”

“Dear god, Brendon, a person with a visual impairment.” Linda sighs and shakes her head, but Blind just sneers.

“Whatever… See, I was sure he was faking it. The moment I saw him walking around the hotel like any other sighted person…”

“Any sighted person for the exception of Brendon Urie. Officer Ignarro you should have seen how he hit that cart.” Blind cuts me and I glance at him angrily, as if he can see it and shut his mouth, but he can’t so he won’t shut up. “You’re unbelievably clumsy for such a tiny person!” He points at me laughing. I swear he’s taking great enjoyment in driving me frantic.

“I’m not tiny! I am a regular sized person. Can you just…Anyways. How do you go all the way from your room to... Mine for example?”

“Easy. Thirty steps to the right down the hall, turn to you right, push the lift button, ding, turn to the left, third button from the top in the right row, ding, fourteen steps to the left down the hall.” His fingers are drawing invisible traces on the table surface. “There should be a long scratch near the door frame, on the right side of it. Zack and Ryan, the dead one, not that obnoxious hipster, had a huge fight and Zack stab the wall with a knife. It was a good day. The tenth of July, 2015. Zack said Ryan’s girlfriend looked like a drag queen. You know he lived in your room before you. And you should probably stop me when I’m off-track, one thing leads to another and it can be confusing in the end.”

He goes quiet and Linda gives me a heavy look. “So what? He knows the building he’s been living in for years. And what does it prove?”

“Good question. What does it prove?  Jamie Brobeck, a boy with a phenomenal memory! You’ve said you love sci-fi. Have you read “Hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy”?” He slowly nods and I continue. “Awesome! First chapter. Go.”

I don’t care to look at Linda, I can almost hear her eyes roll, but I can also feel her body leaning forward when Blind starts to talk quietly but very distinctly.

“The house stood on a slight rise just on the edge of the village. It stood on its own and looked over a broad spread of West Country farmland. Not a remarkable house by any means - it was about thirty years old, squattish, squarish, made of brick, and had four windows set in the front of a size and proportion which more or less exactly failed to please the eye. The only person for whom the house was in any way special was Arthur Dent…”

“That’s enough.” I interrupt him and my voice is shaking. I can’t even check if he made it up right now or not, I’ve never read the book and fell asleep during the movie, but holy shit. “Chapter three, go.”

Blind frowns and mutters “Are you kidding me?” But then he tilts his head back with a grown and declaims loudly: “On this particular Thursday, something was moving quietly through the ionosphere many miles above the surface of the planet; several somethings in fact, several dozen huge yellow chunky slablike somethings, huge as office buildings, silent as birds. They soared with ease, basking in electromagnetic rays from the star Sol, biding their time, grouping, preparing.”

I burst into hysterical laughing. “Jesus Christ, this is amazing, isn’t it? Linda, wanna try?”

“Brendon, I don’t think…” She starts hesitantly, but I cut her off turning to Blind again.

“How much time do you need to learn something by heart?”

“Zero. I don’t need to learn, I just never forget anything.”  

Linda frowns skeptically. “Yeah. Congratulations, Brendon, you found a treasure, that’s a really impressive talent. Mind-blowing. So what?”

“He _is_ Ronnie’s secret ledgers. This man. He knows fucking everything. He remembers fucking everything. Interestingly enough, you can restore a hard drive even if a device was thrown out of a 25th floor window. Our Dan can handle it in matter of an hour. Ok, maybe he needs more time but... But a dead man can’t be restored, you know. One good shot and all your secrets are safe.” Blind visibly shivers when I’m saying that and in a way, I can relate. I clap my hands loudly because my thoughts are finally collected in my mind and I need only one last effort to vocalize them properly. Being dumb is not that easy as it seems. “Okay, Dallon, how does it work with you and Ronnie.” I feel weird satisfaction seeing how his face becomes plain white.

“He talks, I listen. When he needs something, he asks - I answer. Simple as that. How did you know _that_ name?”

“Well, I’m rather dull, but I’m not deaf. I heard you ordering in the morning. You were so nice to spell out the name. Special thanks for that, I would never know how to pronounce it correctly.”

He simply nods. I feel sorry for him, I spilled his secret not giving him any chance to bargain for a while. I feel sorry for doing my actual job and this is something new.

“So, we have found Ronnie’s money if I get it right?” Linda asks distrustfully.

“If Mr. Weekes will be generous enough to fill us in on the details, I guess so.” Linda looks at me irritatedly but it doesn’t bother me as I’m already imagining Wentz kissing my shiny ass in front of everybody and oh my god this picture is so disgusting, how do I unsee it? “So, what’d you say, Mr. Weekes?”

The door opens and Dan’s smiling face appears in the frame. “All done,” he says staring at Blind with barely disguised curiosity. He immediately turns his head in direction of Dan’s voice, and I can tell by his face he’s nervous.

Linda takes the folder Dan has been holding and the moment she opens it she whistles quietly. Her eyebrows slowly go up as she thumbs through the papers quickly. “Oh my… We have a millionaire here! Mr. Dallon James Weekes, and how did you even earn that much money in your... Woah... twenty three? Without any education, as I can see, you didn’t even graduate middle school.”

“Let’s just say I inherited some savings from my mother.”

“But it seems like your mother was a...” Linda stumbles for a second.

“Whore. A woman of pleasure. A slut. That’s right.” Blind nods, proud of himself as if he just told a good joke. “Of course she left me with nothing. I think it’s pretty obvious this is not my money.”

“Yes. So you are the phantom. Nice. I’m no expert but I can already see it will be hard to connect the dots. As I can judge by these entries, officially you have nothing to do with Ronnie. The only person you’ve been making connections with was. Oh my god. Jaime Brobeck.” Linda throws the folder on the table and rubs her face tiredly. “This is unbelievable. We found Ronnie’s money, but I’m not sure we can actually prove it’s Ronnie’s money.”

“Yeah, well it’s kinda supposed to be like this, don’t you think?” Blind shrugs. “But I’m sure you guys can figure it out.”

Fantastic. I sigh. Something still doesn’t fit. We’ve found the phantom. We’ve found a perfect witness, who remembers and can describe every tiny detail, every event that took place at the 505 hotel over the past years everyone else has forgotten. No, not like this. He came to us. Alive. This. This doesn’t fit. “Why are you still alive? Why did he ask me to hide you, not get rid of you? This is the end. We got him. We got everybody.”

Linda glances at me quickly. “This is not the end until we have found who has been protecting Ronnie. That person is so powerful, they can help him to get away with this shit easily. Again.”

“You know who it is, and you’re going to tell us, aren’t you?” I ask Blind carefully as if  I’m afraid the boy can actually vanish into thin air like a Cheshire cat, leaving a flotant sad smile after him.

“Of course.” Here it is, that smile. But he, he is still here.

  
  


 

 

 

 

Arctic Monkeys - Fireside


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of child abuse. Other sad things. Sorry.

 

_ I’m going back to 505 _

_ If it’s a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive _

_ In my imagination you're waiting, lying on your side _

_ With your hands between your thighs _

_ And a smile  _

 

Revisiting 505 just one day later is weird. I thought it’s been weeks, years or even a whole lifetime ago when I left this place in a rush. The upper floors are sealed off by the police. It’s never been really crowded here, but today I feel the emptiness of the halls with every inch of my skin. When we’re passing by Blind’s room my heart sinks just out of habit though I know for sure he’s not there. 

“Down the hall there’s Ronnie’s office. He said it’s there.” I don’t know what “it” is. Blind didn’t tell us. 

I should probably stop calling him Blind since I know his name now, but it seems strange. When I think of him as Dallon Weekes it feels like I’m losing him. That’s stupid. Was he even mine? 

For a solid hour we’re tearing the office upside down with zero result. Just when I think he fooled us just for fun I hear Linda’s cheerful shout. I come up from under the table to see her performing a victory dance with a DVD in her hand. I try not to laugh so I won’t kill her mood but she shouldn’t dance, ever. 

“Let’s go to my room. He doesn’t even have a PC or laptop here.” I say and Linda nods. There’s no actual need to walk all the way to my room, we could watch in any random room, but I just want to visit that place again. I’ve spent almost six months here playing a tough guy, and it feels like I’ve left some part of me here. Maybe just a tiny part but still. When we’re passing Blind’s room again I start counting my steps.

***

While Linda fiddles about with the DVD player, I fall into my bed and close my eyes. Today seems to be an endless mess, I’m already tired and hungry. I know I need to concentrate, but it’s hard, always so hard for me, so I make a promise to myself to think about everything I’ve learnt today later. Later means never.

I wonder how it feels to remember everything, never miss a detail. My memory is the worst and when I say it I mean it. Sometimes I feel like my life is an endless ride on a train and I’m just seeing the view through a dusty window, but once the scenery changes I forget about it, captured by the next beautiful view of life, someone’s life, not even mine. My life sucks. I prefer to ignore it completely, digging up pieces of the stories of others, remembering them only while they last. I’m a tourist on a road, I’m an impostor pretending to know what I am doing and what I am talking about when in matter of fact I can’t just catch one thought, keep one memory. I forget faces and names the second after I recognize them, and for this exact reason I shouldn’t have ever been working for the police, let alone decent social interactions. I’m bad at life. I’m only good at quick puzzles. 

I’m sinking into the memories, the ones that still remain, but I can recollect only the hours and hours of useless attempts to fall asleep in this king sized bed, drowning in white silk sheets, smooth and slippery, random thoughts and anxiety. When I hear annoying noise and sounds of bustle at the back of my mind, a distant scream, or maybe it’s something else, my body shivers and I wake up. I probably need to fix my sleeping schedule because I’ve just shamelessly zoned out at the potential crime scene during investigation and this is a new low even for me. I don’t know how much time I’ve been out and I can only hope Linda hasn’t noticed, so I just rub my eyes and while trying to act casually I ask her lazily: “What’s there?” 

When I get no response I force myself to sit up. Linda sits on a coach in front of the TV and her shoulders are shaking. I jump out of the bed, cursing loudly because my foot is on fire, but I rush over and kneel down in front of her to look at her. Tears rolling down her face and she presses her hand to her mouth.

“Hey, what happened?” I hug her because I have no better option, she doesn’t reply to me. I have never seen Linda in tears before. She’s a tough cop, a woman with steel balls, diplomas, a black karate belt and an owner of a ferocious English bulldog in addition. Once I saw Kenny crying like a baby when she pinned him down to the floor at training. I back off to look at her face again and I shake her by the shoulders a little. “What’s wrong?” She shakes her head and nods to the TV, but when I turn around to look at the screen it displays only some dark glitchy picture. So I take the remote from her hand and turn it on. 

“Rewind to the start,” Linda says with a cracking voice. “And please press Mute.”

I do what I’ve been told to and regret it immediately. There’s a skinny boy on the screen, somewhat around ten years old, sitting on a chair all hunched up, head down, naked. I press pause. 

“Linda, what the fuck is this?” I ask carefully, though I already know the answer, I’m just not ready to face it yet. 

“What does it look like, Brendon? Kiddie porn is what.” 

I’m a cop. I saw shit. On top of that I got months of working for Ronnie under my belt. But now I feel like my heart goes right through to my feet, but I press play again. The boy on the screen looks up and stares at me with his big eyes of pure blue, so beautiful, innocent, but blank, absolutely dead. No, not dead. Blind. I press pause, but it’s not that easy to push the tiny button with shivering hands. A dark silhouette appears in the background and the boy shudders when a huge hand lays down on his pale shoulder. The image freezes; ten more seconds and that gaze from the screen burns my eyes, burns my face and I run out to the balcony and light up a cigarette. Fuck it. I saw shit. But I wasn’t prepared for this. 

It’s surprisingly silent outside, I hear only blood pounding in my ears. The skies are clear and blue and empty like only autumn skies can be. Wait, what day is today. The 2nd of September. Thank God, the summer is gone with its suffocating heat and the mess that high season brings into the city.  

“Did you know?” I almost jump when I hear Linda’s voice. 

“No.” 

“Brendon...”

“I swear!” 

Linda looks at me questioningly and I hand her the pack. 

“I watched the whole footage while you were chilling there. Sped up of course. It’s almost two hours of... This is some fucked up shit. There’s a man. It’s probably him. God. You should watch it.” 

Honestly? I don’t want to. “What are we gonna do now?” I ask trying to keep my voice indifferent but I fail, obviously. 

“You really care about him, don’t you?” 

“I do.” I throw away the cigarette fag and lean over the balustrade to watch how it’s falling but I lose sight of it pretty quickly. “Let’s go.” 

I rush back into the room, grab the remote and play the video in fast motion, trying to ignore the whole thing on screen, and the dull pain at the back of my head, and my screaming leg. When the man’s face gets caught in focus, I press pause. Sweet baby Jesus and saint mother of God. “Linda, it’s the State Attorney!” 

“I know.” 

“Ronnie is a dead man.” I say matter-of-factly.

“I know. He’s behind the camera. Shit.” 

“Good.” I nod. There’s nothing good about it. I want to smoke again. I want to smoke twenty packs of cigarettes one by one and die from intoxication. Today. Right now. But I’m an adult and I can deal with things like an adult so I just start some frantic lap drumming which I’m incredibly good at. 

Linda carefully touches my shoulder; I stop and she looks into my eyes with genuine concern. “Are you okay?” Oh now she’s patronizing me. She cried like a little girl five minutes ago. Well, technically she is a girl. 

I shake my head. “We should probably go back to the station and resume the stand. I think we’re done here. Good job. Really great job. We’re gonna be stars, Linda.” 

Look at me finally acting like a professional, but Linda doesn’t buy any of my bullshit, I’ve said it before she’s so much better than me at this job. 

“Oh my god. You actually love him.” 

And I give up. “From the moment I first saw him.” The moment I saw him marching the hallways of 505, tall and lean, so fucking dignified, the fisher king of this doomed realm, I fell for him hopelessly, beyond retrieve. But somehow I got it just now. 

***

“Dallon?” 

For the first time since I’ve known him he turns his face, his whole body to me when I talk to him. “Did you find it?” he asks quietly and I want to go back to the day that I hadn’t. 

“Yes.” 

“Did you watch it?” 

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yes.” 

“Well then let’s start, but you’d better record, because I’m not going to repeat it hundreds of times.” He sits up and straightens his shoulders, he’s nothing like that frightened boy from the video. Hard like a rock. Cold like stone. I can’t help but smile sadly. 

“When did that happened?” Truth be told, I have no idea how to do the interrogation when I simply don’t want to know anything. Linda is the one who should’ve done this but he refuses to talk to anyone but me. “How long did it last?”

“I don’t remember.” I bet it’s semi-automatic. I’m not the only one who was forced to pretend being someone else. 

“Dallon.” I start to like this name, it suits him perfectly. It’s strange and unique, just like him. “We both know you’ve got a computer brain.” 

“The spring of 2004, I guess.” 

I cough. 

“The first, the seventh and the fourteenth of March, 2004. Three times. Maybe. I don’t really know exactly. They promised me to help recover my sight then, and a treatment, I should just endure a little bit. No pain - no gain, am I right? It wasn’t that awful. I mean it wasn’t violent. Or was it? I don’t remember. No, really. It’s kinda funny… I don’t.” He takes a pause as if he waits for me to convince him that I believe his sudden forgetfulness. Should I though when I know for sure he’s lying? I can’t say a single word, I know if I let my mouth open - I’ll scream. He sneers and continues. “Listen, I wasn’t a smart kid. I didn’t even know they were filming.” 

What was I doing in March, 2004? I can proudly say that I remember. The crashing bore of the classes and creeping fear of the future are probably the only things that have stuck in my head from my High School years. The teachers and my classmates names were erased from my memory beyond recovery. But that March was special because I kissed a girl for the first time. One of Ryan’s exes. Then I lost my virginity to her in her room upstairs while her parents were watching TV. She was so incredibly shameless I just couldn’t not to fall in love. I’m still convinced it was Ryan who taught her all those pleasurable things she passed her knowledge of to me. 

“Dallon, I’m so sorry.” These words are so useless it hurts. I’d prefer to scream, flip the table and crush some things. 

“Don’t be. It’s been years since that happened. And it’s just… how life works I guess? I’ll tell you what... Once upon a time Ronnie was just an average swindler who’d take every odd work he’d be paid for. There was a deal nobody else wanted to soil their hands on, even though that was really big money and a good opportunity to make some useful links. Ronnie just took that opportunity, that’s all. Of course he should have gotten rid of me. Somehow he didn’t do it. I don’t know what his reasons were to keep me alive, he had the footage after all. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a day when he didn’t regret, but he took care of me and paid for all needed medical treatment instead. That’s pretty much it.” 

He messes with his hair again and pulls out his long bangs so it fully covers his face. All the things he says so casually are giving me the creeps. More than anything else I want to take him by the hand and walk out of this room, leaving all this living nightmare behind. If only it was possible. “How did you find out about the record?” 

“Ryan found it. He was a curious guy and you know, curiosity killed a cat.”

“And you tried to run away with him? Why?”

“He had his own vendetta. His girlfriend was one of Ronnie’s girl and once she appeared missing.” Dallon snorts. We both know where Ronnie's girls go. “When he found the record he wanted to use it to lock Ronnie in prison for good. I never was a brave guy. And I never thought it would work. It didn’t. Ronnie hired Spencer to track us down and long story short it ended badly for Ryan.” 

“I thought Spencer was your best buddy.” I really thought that. I liked him a lot actually and I’m not happy about these new specifics at all. 

“He is a good friend of mine.” 

“But he was the reason that Ryan guy ended up being dead.” 

“He did the job he was paid for. Stop seeing the world in black and white, Brendon,” he says disapprovingly and my name rolls off his tongue like a swear. 

Here he’s back. Just ignore it, simply ignore.

“Did Spencer know about... Uhm... the video?”

“Nah, nobody knew.” Dallon leans back in his chair and stretches his enormously long legs under the table and accidentally, or most likely, intentionally hits my injured foot. I frown in pain and step on his foot with full force. He gives me a grimace but continues. “Of course Ronnie didn’t tell him. He never actually trusted Spencer, but he was a highly valued worker, unlike the other guys he’s smart. Actually Ronnie was going to get rid of Spencer after sealing his last deal.”

“Why?’

“Oh so you don’t know! She didn’t tell you. Nice.” He leans over the table again, brushes hair from his face and props his chin up with his knuckles, smiling pleasingly. “Our Spencer had a girlfriend and the rumor was she wasn’t only hot stuff, but also a tough cop. I thought you might have guessed yourself, but it looks like I should break it down for you?” 

His defensive mechanism works like a charm, and he never misses a chance to rub me the wrong way. On our way back from 505 hotel Linda mentioned it wouldn't be out of place to get psychological counseling for him and I laughed right into her face. He never lets anyone bite him, he’s the one who bites. Seeing as I’m not replying he scream whispers: “Miss Ignarro. She’s secretly into bad boys.” 

I have no energy to be mad at him, I know exactly what he’s doing. “Is there anything I can do for you?”  

“Kiss me?” He replies with a sour smile. I just sigh. All I do is sigh. 

“The record is solid evidence itself, so most likely there’s no need to involve you in the litigation, but in the event it’s necessary - can you repeat your story in court?” 

Dallon nods slowly.

“Well then. I will not detain you any more. We’ve got nothing on you, you’re free to go. I should talk to my boss to provide you with police protection, it’s a common practice in case that someone... You know.” I stumble because belatedly I realize he’s in a serious danger right now. As well as me. And Linda. And even Spencer though I should worry about the guy after all the others. “Don’t leave the city until the investigation is over and…that’s basically all. I guess.” 

“I have nowhere to go and you know it. 505 was my home and I presume it’s a crime scene now.” He says nonchalantly and shrugs. Who does he think he is? The world is not a playground. For god’s sake he’s just a blind guy no one knows the name of.

I force out a useless smile he can’t see anyway.  “We’ll figure something out.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Arctic Monkeys - 505


	13. Chapter 13

 

_Secrets I have held in my heart_

_Are harder to hide than I thought_

_Maybe I just wanna be yours_

_I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours_

  


_***_

 

_“Hello Ronnie, how are you doing?”_

  _“I’m not talking to you till I have my lawyer present.”_

  _“Right. Relax, I’m not here to question you about the 505 mayhem. Let’s just chat.”_

  _“Hmm… not interested. Oh wait, you are that Linda Ignarro, our Spencer’s girlfriend, right? Oh I knew he likes tough girls. Does he call you “officer” when you guys-”_

  _“Just for you to know, this conversation is being recorded.”_

  _“Of course, honey. Tell your boyfriend I’m gonna skin him alive when I’m out of here.”_

  _“Yeah. Recorded.”_

  _“You just haven’t met my lawyer yet. By the way, where is he?”_

  _“Still not here, as far as I know. So? Chat? It’s not about Gaskarth, I promise.”_

  _“Go ahead. You’re kinda hot.”_

  _“Thanks. Ok, so. There’s a certain guest in your hotel, known as Dallon Weekes.”_

  _“I don’t know all my guests. There are some specially trained people for that, Linda.”_

  _“Ok, I’ll specify. He’s blind.”_

  _“Ah. Poor guy.”_

  _“Does he work for you?”_

  _“Nah. Just a guest.”_

  _“Yeah, but he’s been living in 505 for 13 years. What dedication.”_

  _“Well I guess he just loves it there. I mean 505 is a first-class hotel located in the city center. It is excellent both for business and pleasure, also for years it has been known as one of the best hotels in Vegas.”_

  _“Such a pity it’s closed now. So, just to be clear, there’s a disabled unemployed guy who can somehow afford living in your first-class hotel for over a decade? Interesting…”_

  _“Ok, I’m helping him.”_

  _“Why?”_

  _“Because he’s fucking blind, Linda. Call it charity, are we done?”_

  _“No offence but you don’t look like the philanthropist of the year. Is he a distant family member?”_

  _“No? What’s the matter? Just a guy.”_

  _“Where'd you get this guy?”_

  _“Why the hell do you care so much?”_

  _“I’m just curious, why don’t you wanna talk about this guy?”_

  _“Ok. He’s a son of an old friend of mine. That’s all.”_

  _“What happened to that friend?”_

  _“No idea, she got lost a long time ago. She might be in Canada. Or Europe. Or in another realm. I don’t care. She was in a bad place back then. He was dying. Kinda. She asked for help and then just disappeared.  Well, I’m not a total dick. I’m still helping him. He can be a pain in the ass, but still he’s a good guy.”_

  _“Woah. This is such a nice story. Saving a random dying kid - such an unselfish thing to do. But he’s not just a random kid, right? He’s special.”_

  _“What do you want from me?”_

  _“I’m just curious. It won’t hurt anyone to just talk. You’re just helping him?”_

  _‘Yes.”_

  _“But he’s helping you too.”_

  _“Where is he?”_

  _“What do you mean?”_

  _“Would you stop that already? You’re asking so many questions, did you get him? Where is he?”_

  _“We didn’t get him, he came on his own free will. Also he told us one hell of a story.”_

  _“Brendon. Brendon fucking Urie. Be a good girl, tell him when I get out of here, like in a couple of hours-”_

  _“With all due respect, you’re never gonna get out of here. No one will cover you up this time, not even your fellow The Incorruptible State Attorney. In fact, your lawyer has already been here, but after reading your case, he’s kinda… refused to defend your interests. So. Keep well! We’ll talk again soon.”_

 

***

We’re sitting on the backseat in insufferable silence. Linda gets in the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut and I swear to god if it was my car I would rip her hands off.  My dad used to say “Don’t slam car doors, it’s not a fucking fridge”, and this is an edited version. The memories of my old man warm me and make me smile for a moment, but it fades when I look at Blind. Dallon. Did he know his father? It hits me - no matter what, Ronnie was the only person vaguely resembling a father figure in his life. This is so unbelievably fucked up and disgusting. When I try to take his hand he just moves aside practically huddling in a corner. I don’t know what to say.

“Brendon, let’s start with you. We need to get you to a hospital.” Linda goes, all business.  

I shrug. “Let’s better start with Mr. Weekes. While the investigation is not over, he’s in serious danger. Who knows what Ronnie might do?” I exactly know what he might do, but I don’t want to say it out loud. Blind used to be his long-term guarantee of security, but now he’s an opened Pandora’s box. Ronnie could kill him just out of spite.

“He won’t do anything.” Dallon says so quietly I have to lean in closer to him, so I can understand what he’s saying. “He’s had years to get rid of me.”

“But Brendon’s right. We can’t risk your life. Actually after my nice convo with Ronnie I’m more concerned about your well-being, B.” Linda looks at me in the rearview mirror. “But first - your leg.”

“Yes, mom.”

“I’ve already discussed it with Wentz, you two will stay at my house for a while, and he’s going to assign Kenny and Matty to guard us. Kinda.”

Kinda. I laugh hysterically. “Are you kidding me. First of all - I’ve got my own place to live, thank you very much.”

“Your place is awful, and Ronnie just openly threatened to kill you, me and Spencer. Well Spencer is in a lockup, so he’s kinda relatively safe.” Kinda. Again, I don’t like the remark, but Linda doesn’t seem to notice her words don’t sound convincing at all. “Come on, my house is too big for me anyways and I have a dog. Wentz said it’d be easier and cheaper this way.”

“Easier and cheaper and, no shit, absolutely insane - sounds exactly like Wentz. Yeah that really makes it easier to find and smash us at one blow if we’re all in one place. No need to look all over the city. So fucking smart. Next - Kenny and Matty? Let’s be real here, I’ll trust your dog with my life, but these guys? One is too nice to shoot anyone, and the other is always in search for a place to take a nap. How is that a guardianship?” I haven’t run out of all the reasons why I found Wentz’s decision dumb yet, but I’m getting way too loud and emotional,and my short but passionate speech leaves me completely out of breath.

“Do you have a better idea?” Linda asks, looking at me in the mirror so sternly I feel like a guilty schoolboy again. I’m thinking of our options for a solid minute and then shake my head. “You, genius?” Dallon doesn’t say a word. “That’s what I thought.”

With that the conversation dies. It’s not that I love to talk a lot, well I do, but that’s beside the point. This silence is heavy, viscous, smothering even, and it’s killing me. The case is almost closed, I did it, I survived, moreover I am a hero and I want to hear them chanting my name. Instead I’m feeling fake, lonely and anxious more than ever, sitting here, in the backseat, with my aching leg, and pounding head, and I’m missing something else, something essential, like I always do, so it only makes the anxiety escalate. But this is me, this is how I feel almost every day regardless of circumstances, I should probably learn how to enjoy it at some point, but I can’t stand people around me being gloomy and quiet, they just make it worse, you know. And just in order to break it I ask Linda “So, you and Spencer have a thing?”

“Yes, we’re fucking, is there something wrong with it?” Comes the answer in an unexpectedly rude tone. Probably, something is definitely wrong with it. “You fucked this guy!” In the mirror I see Linda nodding at Dallon and choke on air. I give him a minute to come up with some remarkable blowjob joke, but he’s silent as a grave in his corner.

“Well, of course there’s nothing wrong… it’s just… Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were friends,” I say pretending to be offended though I couldn’t care less.

“We’re coworkers, Brendon. You don’t have friends,” Linda replies casually and woah, that hurts. They won’t let me feel victorious today, huh?

“Why is everyone so nice to me today? Of course I have friends!” I had one friend, but if I think about it - that was more like a massive long-term crush. I’m trying hard to remember somebody who could be labeled as a friend of mine, under that category I guess should fall people who can survive around me more than 5 minutes without yelling at me and also, probably, would like to spend some time with me on their free will. And yeah as it turns out, Linda is kinda right. “Dallon is my friend! Right? Dallon?” I come up with a sudden insight and hear a quiet chuckle next to me.

“Nah, sorry.” Well, at least he finally said something.

“Ok, it seems like people can't stand Brendon Urie, but you know what -  I’m fine with it, though it’s kind of a mystery to me. I’m a nice guy. Ask anyone.” Sometimes I say things just to say something, and very often I get a reply I don’t like, but I can’t stop talking until I look like an idiot, and I don’t like to look like an idiot, but nobody cares.

“You are, sometimes, but you’re too loud, you don’t care about anyone but yourself, and you’re kinda arrogant and sometimes straight up rude, uh, what else?” Linda recites obviously not caring about hurting my feelings.

“Ah thank you that’s enough. At least you can tell I’m smart.” I declare with full confidence but all I get is a new wave of suffocating silence in response. Nice.

We’re walking into the hospital like a strange dysfunctional family: very enthusiastic Linda, who is the only one who knows the right way, as usual, leads gloomy Dallon, who actually wanted to stay in the car, by the hand, and it leaves me - stupid, lame, tired me, dragging behind them, - extremely jealous. I want to drink myself into oblivion. It would be really weird here, in the hospital lobby. The future doesn’t promise anything good for me at Linda’s - she’s a total abstainer, and you wouldn’t find any flammable liquids at her house with a flashlight in bright daylight. And without my car I’m kinda restricted in my ability to maneuver. Her house is huge, much bigger than one person needs, it’s like all these years it was longing for someone to fill its emptiness. Someone. I hope he’s ok.

So in the end I get loaded with painkillers, plus a giant cast and an X-ray picture to remember.

It’s almost dark when we finally get to Linda’s house. Dallon is not amused by another change of location, so when we’re in the spacious living room, he stretches out on a couch, just like he did there, in the other life, in Ronnie’s office. Except that this time he doesn’t look relaxed, none of us do. But we’re trying, we’re trying.

Linda offers us dinner, but though I haven’t eaten since our fabulous pizza-breakfast, we decline in unison. Linda cooks something anyway. I talk nonsense non-stop, recalling all the stupid stories happened during our night watches with Kenny, but it’s exhausting when nobody laughs.

***

I’m scared to be left alone with Dallon, I have no idea how to deal with his mood, I can barely deal with myself today, it’s already hard enough to ignore the circumstances that led us here, to Linda’s surprisingly cosy guest room. When his phone starts to ring I almost jump out off my pants.

“Relax, it’s just a reminder. I need to get my insulin shot. Uh. Help me?” His voice sounds scratchy, or it’s just the painkillers and my imagination, I can’t tell. I feel strange and dizzy, and everything looks a little bit brighter giving me the feeling that something is off, but most likely it is, so...

“I... yeah, of course. But I have to warn you I’ve never done that before.”

“It’s not that difficult. I think. I have all supplies in my bag.”

Ah yeah. Forgot to mention that a certain someone I don’t want to think about right now was quite attentive and packed our things before we left 505 yesterday in that funny van. Oh god, it was only yesterday. I can count this day for ten years maybe, it would be fair. It would explain why I feel like a different person. No, not like this. Like myself, but exactly ten years older. Have I gotten wiser though? Stay tuned to find out.

Dallon gives me instructions in a monotone voice, but it’s not that easy to stick a needle in a living and breathing person. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t try to stick anything in a dead and unbreathing person either. Dear god, what am I thinking about. I freeze in indecision, staring at his bare hip, his skin pale and luminous in the dim light of the room.  

Unlike me he’s breathing steadily, he’s got used to this stuff. This moment I realize that he’s also gotten used to rely on absolute strangers inherently. No wonder he had been stuck with Ronnie throughout these years despite all the shit he put him through.

“What’s wrong?” he asks impatiently.  

“Nothing,” I lie. Everything is so wrong I wouldn’t know where to start.

I sit beside him and suddenly he grabs my hand. “I’m not a secret anymore, aren’t you bored yet?” he asks worriedly, honest. I shake my head and he lets go of my hand carefully.

I know exactly what he means, now I can feel it almost physically, the strings he’s pulling, I can hear that “love me, love me, never leave me” plead in everything he says, does it make me an awful person? Yes, probably. But he’s wrong, I’ll never get bored with him. I insert the needle in the silver skin. A whiter shade of pale. He barely gets out in the sun, I think. “Everything’s gonna be fine.” I say taking out the needle.

“Nobody knows that,” he objects and I sigh.

He looks so fragile today, tall and strong Blind who carried me on his back all the way from the messy hall of 505. I watch him undress, it’s always so impressive, so fascinating - not only in the way you might think it could be - his moves, mechanical and precise, as he takes off his clothes and gets under the blanket. How does he know in the morning that he doesn’t sleep anymore, when he opens his eyes and sees nothing?

“I can distinguish between light and dark,” Dallon says shrugging and I realize I said it out loud. Well fuck.

My cast doesn’t exactly let me move without embarrassing myself, so I climb into bed huffing and puffing, and as I turn to him - he clings to me immediately, literally wrapping himself around me, burrowing his face into my bare chest. I don’t mind, this is the only right thing to do anyway, it’s necessary, and the inevitability of his closeness weirdly comforts me.

I move closer, nuzzling into his hair that smells like my shampoo after last night’s stay at my place,  his skin is weirdly cold under my fingers and I want to share the warmth I’ve got plenty of with him. His tensed body relaxes in my arms and I hear a quiet “thank you”. Breath in, breath out, here I’d freeze us both in time.

“I want to tell you something if that’s okay,” he says timidly and I just hum back, digging my nose deeper in his soft hair. I’m tired of sad stories, and my word-stock for today is finally exhausted.

“I… Well, before we met, Ross told me about you and… He mostly was talking about himself, but somehow you were in every single one of his stories. I think he missed you. So, not that we were close, well at some point in some way, but that’s not important.” It takes an effort not to laugh bitterly. Ryan. Always way ahead of me. I remember his sad gaze the day I talked to him last time. Is he still alive? I should have asked Linda, I just forgot. Which is funny because there were days when his well-being was the only thing that mattered to me. “He said he was your playground love. He wasn’t lying, right? Lots of stories… the one when you fell asleep in class because the night before you were a designated driver for Ryan, but the party stretched on late, and the one when you broke into the girls dressing room for a dare, and my favorite, when you fell off a step trying to climb into Ryan’s room in the middle of the night and broke your arm. And how you were good at drama, and terribly awful at French. And how you followed him when he entered the Police Academy to piss off his father.” I’m almost falling asleep to his voice and then, when he’s done talking, sudden silence strikes me. Me and silence, we’re just not on good terms.

“Well, seems like you know way more about me than I do about you.”

“I wish it was true.” Dallon sighs and I want to hold him tighter but I think it’s not possible. “I just wanted to say that I… I…” He’s struggling to find words and I feel like flying or maybe falling.

I don’t need this. I don’t need another lie to make the vulgar things look better, so I cut him off. “Just don’t.” It comes out harshly, I don’t mean it like that. “Don’t lie,” I correct myself and it just makes it worse.

He doesn’t reply. Maybe yes, it would be so much better if the world was the way he wants to picture it - embellished with his fantasy, something between sci-fi and a fairy tale, he’s just a boy in a way, in all the ways. But the sad truth is that he desperately needs me to get attached to him, this is his survival mechanism neither more or less.

I’m not romantic material, if it wasn’t obvious yet. Maybe this is all I wanted after all - instead of demanding recognition from everyone around, having a person who needs my attention as desperately as I need theirs, who will do everything to get it - this sounds selfish and sure as hell not normal, in other words - sounds like me. Maybe I don’t want normal, I just want someone beautiful, extraordinaire, wanting me, needing me. And this is so childish. First time in my life I’m trying to think of what I’m getting myself into. And again, maybe it doesn’t seem right, but it fucking _feels_ right hearing his soft breath, touching his smooth skin, knowing it’s not real.

He is not real, he’s made of that bullshit he comes up with inspired by the moment, circumstances or someone he’s with at a certain moment. It’s almost like he doesn’t exist in abstracto, but he will be here only for me, exclusively, always. And maybe I will get used to it - the comforting thought of him never leaving me because he’s just not able to do so. This. This is forever, isn’t it? Look at me playing myself into a corner again. Can I handle forever? Can I handle this moment? I’m overthinking, overanalyzing, it takes few seconds till I realize I lack on air.

“No, you don’t... get it. You don’t get it _right_ ,” Dallon sighs and distracts from me a little. “What? Is it too much?” He murmurs something else absent-minded as he’s looking for a solution. This is amazing and so entertaining to watch the struggle of his manipulative nature; me being so undetermined has caught him off guard. “I am too much, right? Oh well. Understandable. I’m an expensive toy,” finally he whispers bitterly and moves away from me.

“You’re not a toy,” I object. I look at his side profile, so beautiful, perfect, as his blind eyes stare at the ceiling. I’m trying to move closer to him, but my fucking cast doesn’t let me and I give up. “Just don’t try to make things up, ok? I understand, you need somebody to take care of you, and, well, I can be that somebody.”

“The point is that I don’t need somebody! I need you! Why can’t you believe me?” his voice sounds hurt.

Oh.

“Is it dark in the room?” I ask out of nowhere. I want to believe him. Maybe I do.

Dallon furrows his eyebrows. “What, why? I don’t know. I heard the click of a switch. You turned the lights off. So I assume it is dark in the room.”

“So you can’t actually tell the difference between light and dark,” I pinpoint, I don’t know why I’m doing it. Just because I can. Just because I’m petty like that. Just because I am me.

“So there’s a night-light somewhere?” He turns to his side, so now I can see his slightly confused face.

“There is a night-light on the nightstand and you’re a liar,” I nod just in case and he smiles.

I know that smile, it doesn’t mean any good for me. He’s got a plan. “Good night, Brendon.”

I can always think about everything later, and later means never, but again - I don’t care, there are so many things I’ve already forgotten to think about, I can handle one more, so I turn around to flip a switch, and when I turn back he’s there, and now he’s warm, and his hair tickles my nose, and his skin is smooth under my touch. I close my eyes and the world doesn’t disappear, it just becomes brighter, with his scent, with the sound of him breathing in my arms. I was right, he’s a stack of bones, all elbows, ribs and knees, and strained nerves, and I don’t want to ever let him go.

 

 

 

 

 

Arctic Monkeys - I wanna be yours


	14. Chapter 14

Epilogue or something

 

_ I'm here at the beginning of the end _

_ Oh, the end of infinity with you _

_ I'm done with having dreams _

_ The thing that I believe _

_ You drain all the fear from me _

 

The guy in swimming pants, tanned and all muscles, I wonder if he’s a coach or some kind of rescuer, just walks up to me, nonchalantly crossing boundaries of my comfort zone and I already hate him. 

“Hey, your brother shows amazing results! Does he consider to pursue swimming as a sport?” The guy smiles showing perfectly white teeth, so white its radiating glow blinds me for a second. 

“Dude, do we really look like brothers?” I snap, not even trying to make it polite, then I just watch how the guy’s smile fades and he walks away. What can I say, I had a bad day. 

The only thing that never fails to make everything better is watching “my bro” doing laps in the pool. This one is an actual sports like one and its water is freakishly cold, it makes them swim faster or something, I don’t even care, but you’ll never make me jump into it or even touch it.

Dallon  pulls up out of the water  gracefully as usual, I’ll never get tired of this pretty sight, and walks towards the locker rooms. He doesn’t even stop passing by me, just makes a careless remark “I heard you being rude” and I roll my eyes. His skin is wet and so cold I can feel it from a distance, is it weird that I can almost smell the cold?

I lean against the wall at the locker room door and close my eyes. The swarm of thoughts inside my head goes quiet. I’m so tired I can shut down just like this, and I’m halfway there, when someone pulls me away from the wall I’ve almost became a part of. “Let’s go,” Dallon chuckles. Though it’s obviously supposed to be exactly the opposite, he leads me by the hand while I’m trying to recover consciousness. When we’re at the parking lot he shouts “Wake up!” in my ear, then he laughs wild like he’s possessed and kisses the top of my head. 

“What was that for?” I ask suspiciously. Last week he’s been mooning around as black as thunder. 

“Well, I kinda like you. Also a year ago today Ronald Joseph Radke was found hung up in his cell,” he proclaims and I choke on air. Ouch.

“Psycho”, I mutter, obviously confused. We don’t talk about this, like ever. It’s like that part of our lives was completely erased the moment the judge closed the case. But he just grins and kisses me again and I chunter: “Dal, everyone’s staring”. 

“Well it’s probably because you dress me up like a clown,”  Dallon shrugs carelessly, and I can’t help but smile too. 

“Shut up and get in the car. It’s not my fault that you decided to be oh so honest at inappropriate times and gave all your money to the state. Now surprise, I can’t afford Gucci.” 

“I returned all the illegal earnings to the state so I wouldn’t end up in jail and that’s exactly what you told me to do.” 

“Right.” I start the car and look at him for a second. Evening sun lightens his worriless face, and blue shadows make his beautiful features look even more sharp. He looks surreal, and everything feels surreal. I need to concentrate on driving and I manage to do so, luckily for both of us, trapped in this worn-out metal box aka my shitty car. 

Life’s getting better, it truly is. A couple of months ago, thanks to Wentz, Dallon got a place with the 911 hotline, and he’s officially the one and only human being I know personally who is happy to have a job. Anyway, we finally moved to a better place with an actual living room in Linda’s nice neighborhood, which is only partly a good thing. Don’t get me wrong she helps us a lot with logistics, grocery and stuff, because I’m still a cop with a fucked up work schedule, and Dallon is still blind, but at the same time sometimes I just don’t know how to drive her out of our house. Well, there’s a chance this problem will solve itself when Spencer’s finally out of jail. I pray for that day. 

The radio hisses, cutting the song I like quite a lot in the middle of a chorus. The traffic is awful and I just want to be home already. 

“How was your day?” Dallon asks softly. He hates it when I’m angrily quiet. No shit he can distinguish 50 shades of me being quiet. I mean he literally has a list.

“Pretty much like shit,” I reply honestly. “Yours?” 

“Meh”. But he’s still smiling peacefully when I look at him. He’s weird. He knows how to turn every situation to his advantage and enjoy every breath he takes even when everything goes to shit. This is his super ability. He’s incredibly brave and strong, he’s unique, he’s one of a kind. Me? Today some jerk threatened me with a gun and I didn’t blink an eye but sometimes I can’t fight the crippling fear that one day I will fuck everything up again. Losing him is something I’ll never be able to go through. But that’s the point, he won’t let it happen. I know, I know, I’m not being consistent again. 

“Breathe”, he reminds me and I breathe. “Everything’s fine, right?” And I hate when he’s worried about me being worried. You see? This is complicated. 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just. You know. Shit.” Me at my best. No need for explanations, he probably knows me better than I do anyway, so he frowns but then he finds my hand and squeezes it a little. 

So here we are, stuck in the traffic, drowning in a beautiful sunset, and anxiety, and “happily ever after”. Flashes of sunlight, red and orange, dance upon the dashboard and our faces, making me squint. I forgot my sunglasses on my desk at the station, but this only reminds me of one thing. 

“It’s so beautiful, you know. The sunset. Breathtaking,” I say. 

And he smiles. He fucking smiles, and that stupid smile of his makes me feel bulletproof.

 

 

 

 

Fall Out Boy - The last of the real ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.


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